

She forced her eyes open and waited impatiently for 
them to focus so she could read the chronometric display 
above the life-signs monitor in her stasis capsule. Glowing 
green numerals reported time as both objective and 
subjective, with the latter number causing her more 
concern than the former. I have been in stasis for the 
equivalent of 3.27144 life-measurement units. My mission, 
my preparation, was projected to take 4.978831 
LMUs. I am not yet ready. 

She looked at the first number again. She frowned, 
forcing her brain through the rigors of mathematics. 

Twenty-six terrestrial LMUs have passed since I was 
placed in stasis. Have they progressed so much that they 
can hold him at bay? Has the danger passed? Is it safe? 

The laughter drifted in and out of her mind like snatches 
of music borne by the wind. At times she heard it with a 
deafening clarity, then it faded until she wondered if it had 
ever been there at all. The anger in it slowly drained until 


she sensed an almost paternal pride or a begrudged 
respect in it. Whoever had driven him off had earned his 
attention and, with that, she knew, came fearful, crushing 
retribution. 
I was put into stasis to fight himand themto prevent 
his exacting revenge. I was to forge myself into a tool that 
would end his campaign of terror and domination. She 
pressed her fingertips against the soft cloth lining the 
stasis capsule and sought in it the peace she had known 
before the scream. I am not ready. 
From the heart of the laughter came a new emotion. It 
shocked and hurt her, but she automatically shunted the 
pain away as the defenses she had prepared dealt with the 
assault. Once she broke through the wall of physical 
discomfort, she saw and smelled and felt and heard and 
tasted and sensed him and his thoughts. She had trouble 
following his mental processes, for though he had one 
purpose and one goal, it seemed as if billions of minds 
spoke in unison with his. Like listening for one lone flute 
in a concert of all the worlds' orchestras, she caught 
tantalizing fragments of his musings, then slowly puzzled 
them together. 
She consciously overrode the physical lethargy imposed 
by the stasis capsule and let herself smile. Here he 
is called Fiddleback, a name in which he revels for its 
irony and infamy. He has agents heremany agents. But 
there are those who oppose him. Someone turned one of 
his agents, his favorite, against him. That pet has joined 
forces with the opposition against him, but Fiddleback 
has no fear. There is a trap. He will consume his enemies 
in this trap, and take away a greater prize in doing so. 

she sensed an almost paternal pride or a begrudged 
respect in it. Whoever had driven him off had earned his 
attention and, with that, she knew, came fearful, crushing 
retribution. 
I was put into stasis to fight himand themto prevent 
his exacting revenge. I was to forge myself into a tool that 
would end his campaign of terror and domination. She 
pressed her fingertips against the soft cloth lining the 
stasis capsule and sought in it the peace she had known 
before the scream. I am not ready. 
From the heart of the laughter came a new emotion. It 
shocked and hurt her, but she automatically shunted the 
pain away as the defenses she had prepared dealt with the 
assault. Once she broke through the wall of physical 
discomfort, she saw and smelled and felt and heard and 
tasted and sensed him and his thoughts. She had trouble 
following his mental processes, for though he had one 
purpose and one goal, it seemed as if billions of minds 
spoke in unison with his. Like listening for one lone flute 
in a concert of all the worlds' orchestras, she caught 
tantalizing fragments of his musings, then slowly puzzled 
them together. 
She consciously overrode the physical lethargy imposed 
by the stasis capsule and let herself smile. Here he 
is called Fiddleback, a name in which he revels for its 
irony and infamy. He has agents heremany agents. But 
there are those who oppose him. Someone turned one of 
his agents, his favorite, against him. That pet has joined 
forces with the opposition against him, but Fiddleback 
has no fear. There is a trap. He will consume his enemies 
in this trap, and take away a greater prize in doing so. 


The hiss of musty air flowing into the capsule buried 
that sound. Dim light encircled her as the top half of the 
tubular capsule rose four centimeters. She blinked her 
eyes twice, not against the light, but because of the swirls 
of dust curling in beneath the edge of the capsule. As the 
latches on the right side snapped open, the whole lid 
rotated up and to the left. In its wake, a drifting blanket of 
dust blew free of the lid's trailing edge and settled over her. 
She sneezed. 
The sound surprised her, especially the way it echoed 
within the small stone chamber, then she laughed. That 
happy sound likewise rebounded back to her, and she 
smiled, remembering that the denizens of this world still 
communicated through sounds instead of through telepathy. 
Although born here, she shared her parents' preference 
for thought transfer to the imprecision of speech. 
The incessant chittering of Fiddleback's myriad thoughts 
nibbled through the pleasant feelings her memories had 
engendered. She frowned and tried to snap shut the link 
to him, but found it impossible. Gritting her teeth, she 
redoubled her effort. Success came, along with a return of 
the pain wall, leaving her exhausted and numb. 
Golden highlights glinted from her fingernails as she 
outstretched her arms. Reaching down, she grasped the 
edge of the capsule and levered herself into a sitting 
position, then swung her legs over the edge. Scooting 
forward, she hopped down to the floor and landed in a 
three-point crouch. She looked left and right, her eyesight 
piercing the darkness without trouble, but heard and saw 
nothing else in the small room. 
Settling back down on her haunches, she brushed her 
thumb over her fingertips, savoring the gritty sensation of 
the dust from the floor. No one has been here for a long 
time. LMUs, perhaps. She straightened up and glanced 
over at the wooden bin stacked with metallic debris and 
the four padlocked file cabinets next to it. Dr. Chandra 
said no one would ever be allowed to see the Corona crash 
evidence. Hiding me here was a good choice. 

The hiss of musty air flowing into the capsule buried 
that sound. Dim light encircled her as the top half of the 
tubular capsule rose four centimeters. She blinked her 
eyes twice, not against the light, but because of the swirls 
of dust curling in beneath the edge of the capsule. As the 
latches on the right side snapped open, the whole lid 
rotated up and to the left. In its wake, a drifting blanket of 
dust blew free of the lid's trailing edge and settled over her. 
She sneezed. 
The sound surprised her, especially the way it echoed 
within the small stone chamber, then she laughed. That 
happy sound likewise rebounded back to her, and she 
smiled, remembering that the denizens of this world still 
communicated through sounds instead of through telepathy. 
Although born here, she shared her parents' preference 
for thought transfer to the imprecision of speech. 
The incessant chittering of Fiddleback's myriad thoughts 
nibbled through the pleasant feelings her memories had 
engendered. She frowned and tried to snap shut the link 
to him, but found it impossible. Gritting her teeth, she 
redoubled her effort. Success came, along with a return of 
the pain wall, leaving her exhausted and numb. 
Golden highlights glinted from her fingernails as she 
outstretched her arms. Reaching down, she grasped the 
edge of the capsule and levered herself into a sitting 
position, then swung her legs over the edge. Scooting 
forward, she hopped down to the floor and landed in a 
three-point crouch. She looked left and right, her eyesight 
piercing the darkness without trouble, but heard and saw 
nothing else in the small room. 
Settling back down on her haunches, she brushed her 
thumb over her fingertips, savoring the gritty sensation of 
the dust from the floor. No one has been here for a long 
time. LMUs, perhaps. She straightened up and glanced 
over at the wooden bin stacked with metallic debris and 
the four padlocked file cabinets next to it. Dr. Chandra 
said no one would ever be allowed to see the Corona crash 
evidence. Hiding me here was a good choice. 


took a step back to survey the door in its entirety and 
noticed the numeric keypad beside it. 
She smiled because the doors on the ship had used 
similar sorts of locking mechanisms. She covered it with 
her hand and gave the mental command to open. 
Nothing happened. 
A second attempt achieved the same result. She 
concentrated, thinking perhaps her skills had atrophied 
during stasis. She rejected the thoughtthe whole purpose 
of her time in stasis had been to hone her skills, but 
part of her preferred that impossibility to the reality of 
being trapped. 
Her third command failed as had the other two, but her 
concentration brought another result. She realized that of 
the nine keys on the pad, several of them resonated 
differently to her senses. She ran her fingertips over them 
very lightly and felt a spark as she touched some of them. 
She shook her head. Of course, the humans put this in. 
That which we use for manual override is what they have 
no choice but to use because the vast majority of them 
cannot project their thoughts. Four keys feel special, but 
what is the sequence? How many numbers? 

took a step back to survey the door in its entirety and 
noticed the numeric keypad beside it. 
She smiled because the doors on the ship had used 
similar sorts of locking mechanisms. She covered it with 
her hand and gave the mental command to open. 
Nothing happened. 
A second attempt achieved the same result. She 
concentrated, thinking perhaps her skills had atrophied 
during stasis. She rejected the thoughtthe whole purpose 
of her time in stasis had been to hone her skills, but 
part of her preferred that impossibility to the reality of 
being trapped. 
Her third command failed as had the other two, but her 
concentration brought another result. She realized that of 
the nine keys on the pad, several of them resonated 
differently to her senses. She ran her fingertips over them 
very lightly and felt a spark as she touched some of them. 
She shook her head. Of course, the humans put this in. 
That which we use for manual override is what they have 
no choice but to use because the vast majority of them 
cannot project their thoughts. Four keys feel special, but 
what is the sequence? How many numbers? 

A five-number sequence with four possible candidates 
is not an insurmountable number of combinations to try. 
She stared at the keypad again. Entering a wrong number 
could set off an alarm, and with the changes here, I do not 
want to do that. There must be another clue. 

She frowned and tried to sort through anything she 
could remember about her hosts that would give her an 
indication of what she should do. She smiled as she 
remembered Dr. Chandra and the other humans who had 
worked with her, studying her, as she had grown up within 
the protected environment of a Federal Liaison Center. It 
shocked and surprised her that, as much as she had loved 
Chandra and his co-workers, her mother's thoughts about 
humans detonated in her brain: Humans are undisciplined, 
vain and sloppy. 

Sloppy. Instead of forcing themselves to remember 
things, they take shortcuts. She looked at the keypad and 
smiled. Mnemonics, patterns, tools. Yes, it makes sense. 


Reaching out, she hit 8-6-2-4-8, starting with the 8 and 
describing a diamond-shape that ended with the 8 again. 

Reaching out, she hit 8-6-2-4-8, starting with the 8 and 
describing a diamond-shape that ended with the 8 again. 

She wondered where that thought had come from as 
the door slid silently into the ceiling. She glanced out and 
saw nothing but pale yellow light. Thinking herself safe, 
she stepped out of the room, then discovered, in a small 
alcove, a desk with a lamp producing the yellow light. 
Behind the desk, staring at her wide-eyed over the edge 
of a tabloid newspaper, sat a very surprised soldier. 
"Jesus H. Christ!" The man pulled his feet from the top 
of the desk and sat forward, letting the tabloid spray 
across the desk in a blizzard of paper. He looked her up 
from her toes to the top of her head and back down again. 
"Oh my God!" 
His thoughts raced unbridled and bursting with raw 
energy. The first thought she picked up from him was one 
of happy surprise, because the first thing he noticed was 
her nakedness. He then noticed her gold hair, which 
heightened his excitement and keyed his active fantasy 
life, despite the apparent drawbacks of her being, in his 
eyes, petite. 
Then reality darkened his fantasy. He realized that no 
matter how much he thought he deserved a carnal 
adventure, there was no way anyone, naked or not, should 
be at his hell-hole post. His job was technically to keep 
people away from getting into whatever the Air Force 
stored down here, but all those interlopers should have 
been coming down from above, not out from below. With 
that realization she caught the first tendrils of horror in his 
thoughts. 
The soldier looked at her again and saw beyond her 
nudity and golden hair. She saw herself reflected in his 
terror. Her jet-black flesh and metallic gold fingernails 
struck him as odd, but not out of the ordinary from things 
he had seen at the Palomino in Vegas. Even the golden 
stripes running from her fingers along her arms, and up 
her legs from her toes were not so radically out of line. He 
could have accepted them, but then he saw her eyes. 
Large and slightly almond-shaped, he saw them as 
sensualfor a heartbeat. Then he saw the vertical lozenge 
pupil and that triggered in him an ancient race-fear of 
reptiles. In less time than it took for the last page from his 
tabloid to flutter to the ground, she had gone from an 
object of carnal desire to a monster from the bowels of hell. 
She felt his panic and knew there was no way she could 
calm him. He is all but gone now! She threw her arms 
open, looked him in the eyes and projected an image into 
his mind. She forced him to visualize her legs blending 
together into 20 feet of gold-bellied snake and her tongue 
flickering in his direction. 


The soldier's eyes rolled back up into his head as he 
fainted dead away. He flopped back into his chair, then 
dropped to the floor and lay there quietly. His arms and 
legs twitched a couple of time, then he rolled onto his back 
and began breathing normally. 
She crossed to him and pressed her right hand against 
his forehead. Projecting her mind into his, she found his 
short-term memory and began to warp it. Plucking a page 
from the tabloid, she studied the picture of a dark-haired 
actress in a gown that looked barely able to restrain all of 
her. I am sorry this Janine Fonda is not a blonde, as you 
seem to prefer, but she should do nicely for you. 

The soldier's eyes rolled back up into his head as he 
fainted dead away. He flopped back into his chair, then 
dropped to the floor and lay there quietly. His arms and 
legs twitched a couple of time, then he rolled onto his back 
and began breathing normally. 
She crossed to him and pressed her right hand against 
his forehead. Projecting her mind into his, she found his 
short-term memory and began to warp it. Plucking a page 
from the tabloid, she studied the picture of a dark-haired 
actress in a gown that looked barely able to restrain all of 
her. I am sorry this Janine Fonda is not a blonde, as you 
seem to prefer, but she should do nicely for you. 

A grainy photograph, clearly taken at night, showed a 
monstrously huge creature towering over a skyscraper. 
Though she had never actually seen Fiddleback, he had 
been described to her in enough detail for her to know this 
blurred photograph had to be him. 
She stared at the symbols on the page and forced 
herself to remember how to decipher them. Translating 
quickly, she rendered the headline as "Genetically defective 
arachnid assaults a mythical bird that is reborn of its 
own ashes." Knowing that had to be incorrect, and seeing 
the bird reference repeated in captions and the body of the 
text, she decided the word Phoenix probably referred to a 
place. 
"Pah-he-o-e-nicks," she sounded out. It sounded decidedly 
alien to her, but then everything about the world 
of her birth was alien to her, as she was to it. Phoenix. This 
is where Fiddleback was defeated. This is where his 
enemies dwell, dwell in danger. She balled the paper up 
and jammed it into the boot. Then this Phoenix is where 
I shall go to warn them. 





guchi-gumi. I know you subscribe to 14 other magazines, 
but the only two you seem to read voraciously are 
Methods of Industrial Security and Counter-Terrorism 
Bulletin. In fact, I found your CTB article on the effects of 
minor extortion on executives abroad fascinating." 
Coyote felt that Sinclair covered his look of surprise 
quite well. "As you have checked on me, Mr. MacNeal, so 
I have checked on you. This is why you are here. Now, 
back to my original question: Have you read about what 
happened in Phoenix two weeks ago?" 
Sinclair surrendered with a smile. "I have seen news 
reports, but, no, I have not read 'Mutant Spider Attacks 
Phoenix.' As for the actual incident," he glanced down at 
his hands, "I managed to sleep through it. Then again, I 
was never one for sharing the hallucinations caused by 
mass hysteria." 
Crowley leaned forward. "And what if I were to suggest 
that there was fire beneath the smoke that is this article?" 
"I would suggest you get in touch with your father, 
because his act was much better than yours." 
"Good, Mr. MacNeal, very good." Coyote walked back 
around and sat behind his desk. "You'll need your skepticism, 
because what we are about to tell you will be very 
surprising. I assure you it is true, as odd as it may seem." 
MacNeal tossed the tabloid onto the gold-carpeted 
floor, "It gets odder? I can't wait" 
Coyote let the sarcasm slip past, knowing he shared 
Sinclair's attitude before he had seen and done what 
prevented Fiddleback's success in assaulting Phoenix. 
"Mr. MacNeal, the creature in the picture that accompanies 
that article is, in fact, real. The maglev circuit that 
connects all of the corporate towers here in Phoenix had 
incorporated into its design a highly advanced circuitry 
layout. When supplied with sufficient power, as was 
present in the thunderstorm two weeks ago, it opened a 
gateway to another reality. In that reality, this creature 
exists." 
Sinclair shook his head. "Another reality? I think you've 
been watching too much Star Trek: Captain Crusher's 
Log." 

guchi-gumi. I know you subscribe to 14 other magazines, 
but the only two you seem to read voraciously are 
Methods of Industrial Security and Counter-Terrorism 
Bulletin. In fact, I found your CTB article on the effects of 
minor extortion on executives abroad fascinating." 
Coyote felt that Sinclair covered his look of surprise 
quite well. "As you have checked on me, Mr. MacNeal, so 
I have checked on you. This is why you are here. Now, 
back to my original question: Have you read about what 
happened in Phoenix two weeks ago?" 
Sinclair surrendered with a smile. "I have seen news 
reports, but, no, I have not read 'Mutant Spider Attacks 
Phoenix.' As for the actual incident," he glanced down at 
his hands, "I managed to sleep through it. Then again, I 
was never one for sharing the hallucinations caused by 
mass hysteria." 
Crowley leaned forward. "And what if I were to suggest 
that there was fire beneath the smoke that is this article?" 
"I would suggest you get in touch with your father, 
because his act was much better than yours." 
"Good, Mr. MacNeal, very good." Coyote walked back 
around and sat behind his desk. "You'll need your skepticism, 
because what we are about to tell you will be very 
surprising. I assure you it is true, as odd as it may seem." 
MacNeal tossed the tabloid onto the gold-carpeted 
floor, "It gets odder? I can't wait" 
Coyote let the sarcasm slip past, knowing he shared 
Sinclair's attitude before he had seen and done what 
prevented Fiddleback's success in assaulting Phoenix. 
"Mr. MacNeal, the creature in the picture that accompanies 
that article is, in fact, real. The maglev circuit that 
connects all of the corporate towers here in Phoenix had 
incorporated into its design a highly advanced circuitry 
layout. When supplied with sufficient power, as was 
present in the thunderstorm two weeks ago, it opened a 
gateway to another reality. In that reality, this creature 
exists." 
Sinclair shook his head. "Another reality? I think you've 
been watching too much Star Trek: Captain Crusher's 
Log." 


"Crowley, you were right. Show him." 
The man in the gray suit eased himself forward to the 
edge of his chair. "At the Deitrich party, you and I ended 
up washing our hands side by side in the reception 
center's bathroom. You noticed a peculiar scar on the 
back of my left hand and commented that you'd only seen 
anything similar on dead fish." 
Crowley tugged at each finger of the glove on his left 
hand. As it slid free, Coyote saw a circular mass of scar 
tissue on the back of Crowley's left hand, it looked twisted 
and knotted, as if someone had taken a circular sanding 
tool to his flesh and had ground on it for a while. Pulling the 
glove all the way off, Crowley showed his hand to Sinclair. 
"The lamprey scar. I remember it." Sinclair looked up 
at the man's face, then back down at his hand. "But the 
man with the scar was much older20, 30 years your 
senior. You could have faked that." 
"Touch it, if you wish. See if it is real." Crowley extended 
his hand to him, but the challenge in the occultist's voice 
made Sinclair hesitate. "You will recall that only you and 
I were in that room at the time, so only you saw the scar. 
You would further agree, I think, that while I might have 
faked the scar through some complex make-up or surgery, 
planning to inflict the scar on myself far enough in 
advance to let it heal like this, then springing it on you here, 
is improbable." 
Sinclair stared at the hand, then looked up at Crowley. 
"Believing you planned ahead is easier than trying to 
figure out how you became younger." 
Crowley slipped his hand back into the glove. "There 
are dimensions out there where things...change." 
Coyote sat back in his chair. "The easiest explanation 
is not always the correct one. In order to defeat Fiddle-
backthe 'mutant spider' in questionCrowley undertook 
a dangerous mission to a dimension that formed the 
basis for part of mythological Greek hell, Tartarus. In that 
pocket dimension, the one in which the titan Tityus 
regenerates on a daily basis after having provided a meal 
for vultures, he helped a woman regenerate from injuries 
caused by Fiddleback's agents. In the process, he also 
regenerated from all that ailed him. In his case, this was 
the ravages of old age. The scar, which he had gotten 
before the age to which he regressed, remained unaffected." 
Sinclair sat slowly, his bright eyes flicking back and 
forth between Crowley and Coyote. "I'm listening, but I'm 
not convinced." 
Coyote steepled his fingers. "Good. Stories of things 
from yetis and lake monsters to flying saucers and 
zombies have a basis in truth. Scholars have, by assuming 
the simplest answer is the best one, created scenarios for 


describing mythic epics as tales reflecting or explaining in 
magical terms concepts that ancient peoples could not 
understand. Like you, like them, I did not realize, until my 
encounter with Fiddleback, that another explanation 
existed: Other realities exist and, at various points in our 
history and prehistory, denizens of these other places 
have come here and been driven back by our ancestors." 
"So, you're trying to tell me that Count Dracula was 
really a vampire from another dimension?" 
"Perhaps. But more likely Vlad the Impaler was a 
human under the influence of a Dark Lord." Coyote 
unbuttoned his blue suitcoat and leaned forward onto his 
desk. "I do not expect you to believe that everything weird 
is a result of Dark Lord actionplenty of human mountebanks 
make a living by spreading pseudo-scientific nonsense. 
I just want you to be aware that things, like 
Fiddleback, do exist and must be opposed. At the risk of 
sounding decidedly melodramatic, what I want you to do 
is help us prevent Fiddleback from taking over the world." 
"I've got the weekend free, not a problem," Sinclair 
quipped sarcastically. 
Coyote smiled at him. "I'm glad you have a sense of 
humor. You'll need it." 
"You said you had a job for me to do." 
"So I did. Until recently, Mr. MacNeal, I was an assassin 
being trained and maintained by Fiddleback's organization. 
I came to Phoenix to kill Nero Loring. I had my eyes 
opened to the nature of reality, or the realities, and now I 
have chosen to side with humanity over the whim of the 
Dark Lords." 
"Fiddleback being a Dark Lord?" 
Coyote nodded. 
Sinclair's eyes narrowed. "And there are more than just 
him?" 
Coyote nodded again. 
Crowley crossed his legs. "Fiddleback is but one of 
many. Pygmalion, Dead Tongue, Baron Someday and a 
dozen others all operate here on Earth. Fiddleback has 
been the most ambitious to date, but all are effective in 
their spheres of influence." 
"Fiddleback, as part of his plan to solidify his hold on 
Earth, has created a training school for assassins and 
other agents. I know its general location, but I want you to 
pinpoint it and scout it out for me." Coyote interwove his 
fingers and watched Sinclair closely. "This is why I am 
sending you to Japan." 
Sinclair's head came up as if someone had grabbed his 
hair and jerked it back. "Japan? I don't think you want me 
going to the Land of the Rising Sun. You may have a 
background file on me, but much of what it reports about 
my time in Tokyo is wrong, I'm certain." 


"I don't think so. Jytte is thorough and never settles for 
one source. I know about your situation vis a vis the 
Yakuza and the others in Japan. You are precisely the 
person I want in place there." Coyote punched the button 
on his deskphone when it lit up. "Yes, Lilith?" 
"The flight is standing by, Mr. Loring." 
"We'll be right up." He stood. "Sorry to cut this short, but 
I have to catch a shuttle out to the regional airport. I have 
a flight leaving very shortly." 
"Wait a minute. You can't just leave me in the dark 
here." 
Coyote pointed back toward the door. "My executive 
assistant, Ms. Acres, will give you a full set of briefing 
documents. She has also prepared your reservations in 
Tokyo, all the documentation you'll need, a credit line of 
$50,000 and has $5000 in cash for you. You still prefer the 
Beretta M92S as a side arm?" 
Sinclair looked a bit shocked. "Yes, but smuggling one 
into Japan will be impossible." 
"Agreed, which is why we will have one waiting for you 
in your suite in the New Palace Hotel. Ms. Acres will 
remain in this office for a week, then she will transfer to the 
Lorica office in Tokyo. You can reach her here or there as 
needed." Opening his top drawer, Coyote pulled a sealed 
file folder from his desk and offered it to Sinclair. "I need 
you to do one more thing. I need you to take this to Phoenix 
General Tower, Room 10542." 
Sinclair accepted the file. "I give this to Hal Garrett?" 
Coyote nodded appreciatively. "Very good, Mr. 
MacNeal. How did you know?" 
"I have a head for figures." He tapped his right temple. 
"After your visit to my apartment, I checked on Garrett. I 
remember the room number." 
Then you'll have no trouble finding it. I will contact you 
in Japan when I am able and you will likely see Mr. 
Crowley before you see me." 
"One thing, Coyote." 
"Yes?" 
"You said you were trained at this facility, which you put 
in Japan. Why am I going after it when you, it seems to me, 
would be the logical choice to uncover it?" 
Coyote smiled. "The short form is that I no longer know 
where it is, so I need you to find it for me. More importantly, 
though, Crowley believesand I have come to agree with 
himthat I need to complete the training Fiddleback had 
intended for me, albeit without his sponsorship. This 
means I must go away, but for how long, I do not know. 
If I learn what I must quickly enough, and you find 
Fiddleback's beachhead in Japan, we can defeat him." 
"And if you or I fail?" 
Coyote pointed to Crowley. "Remember what the 


lamprey did to his hand?" 
Sinclair nodded solemnly. 
"Imagine life after Fiddleback does that to the Earth." 

lamprey did to his hand?" 
Sinclair nodded solemnly. 
"Imagine life after Fiddleback does that to the Earth." 
Sinclair MacNeal shielded his eyes from the dust storm 
raised by Lorica's CV-27 Peregrine. As the dual-rotor craft 
lifted off, the pilot rotated the nacelles at the end of the 
wings forward, transforming the hybrid craft from helicopter 
to more conventional plane. The silvery craft dipped 
toward the ground to pick up airspeed, then swooped up 
and headed directly out toward the regional airport in the 
distance. 
Raking windblown hair back into place with his left 
hand, Sin looked out over the city of Phoenix. From high 
atop the Lorica Industries corporate citadel, he had a clear 
view of the black, photovoltaic cell ocean that covered the 
city 100 feet above the ground. He saw two Arizona Public 
Service crews working to repair cells damaged in the 
storm two weeks earlier. 
Seven man-made islands floated in the black sea called 
Frozen Shade. To the northwest he saw the Build-more 
complex and even allowed himself a proud smile. The 
largest of the islands, dead west from the Lorica complex, 
dwarfed all the others. City Center sat at the hub of the 
maglev-elevated train lines that connected all of the 
corporate citadels and very much formed the center of life 
for the people living in those towers. 
Raised in the Build-more tower, and having lived there 
when not in Japan or Europe, Sin found what he surveyed 
normal. On his 18th birthday, his father had taken him to 
the top of the Build-more tower and swept his arm wide 
over the city. "Sinclair, someday this will all be yours." I'd 
have believed him, except I knew he'd said the same thing 
to my three older brothers when they turned 18. 


"Mr. MacNeal?" 
Sin looked over toward the accessway into the tower. 
"Yes, Ms. Acres, what is it?" 
The blond woman nodded once and smiled. "Mr. Loring 
asked me to prepare your things for you. If you would 
follow me." 
Sin took one last look at the city. He drew in a lungful 
of the dry, desert air and let himself revel in the 110F heat. 
"May be hot, but it's a dry heat," he laughed to himself. 
"Unfortunately, Tokyo is a very wet heat at this time of 
year." 
"Mr. MacNeal?" 
"Sorry." He shook his head and followed Lilith through 
the doorway and down the dark stairwell. Above him, the 



door shut automatically and, as they descended, the air 
cooled appreciably. "Outsiders always note that Phoenix 
has dry heat, as if that makes it bearable. Trying to explain 
to them that an oven has dry heat also never seems to 
make the point. Still, the dry heat here is preferable to 
Tokyo during the summer." 
Lilith nodded politely, but Sin definitely had the impression 
she did so merely because it was mannerly, not out 
of any interest. The stairwell ended in a stout metal door 
with a one-foot square of white Lucite in the wall beside the 
jamb. She pressed her hand to it and a neon green bar 
passed from top to bottom and back up again, scanning 
her palmprint. The light went out, then the door lock 
clicked. 
She held the door open as Sin paused and pulled a 
handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped the plate 
down, then stepped into the foyer of boring's office suite. 
Lilith followed him, and an oaken panel slid down to hide 
the door. Sin smiled at her as he refolded his handkerchief 
and returned it to his pocket. 
Lilith's green eyes studied him for a moment, then she 
rested her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, but why did you 
do that?" 
"I'm a security specialist, remember? The green light 
and the scan rate makes that the Tojicorp knockoff of the 
Allard Technologies Argus Security Scanner. The Allard 
system has some proprietary software burned into its 
chips that Tojicorp never cracked, so there are a couple 
of tricks that can be used to defeat the TC system." Sin 
shrugged. "They're not that simple, and few thieves carry 
that sort of equipment around with them, anyway." 
"I see." Lilith pulled back the cuff of her green silk jacket 
and activated the wrist-recording device she wore. "Note: 
have all security scanners replaced with Allard Technologies 
Argus systems." Switching the device off, she directed 
Sin toward her office. "This way, please." 
"Neat toy, that." 
"I will have one ordered for you." Lilith nodded at her 
red-haired secretary, then ushered Sin into her office. 
She closed the door behind them, which gave him a 
moment to survey the blond-ash paneled room. The 
warm, golden carpet and open airiness of the room 
made it seem far larger than it really was. This impression 
was aided by a window that took up the whole 
north wall and provided a breathtaking view of Squaw 
Peak and Camelback Mountain. 
She nodded and pointed him to a straight-backed chair 
in front of her blackened-steel and smoky-glass desk. The 
desk itself was utterly bare, and he wondered how she got 
any work done at all without a computer or a phone. As 
she walked around behind it and touched the desk at 


several seemingly random spots, he realized her secret. 

several seemingly random spots, he realized her secret. 


been cut above him, but it gradually slowed as it neared 
the 12th floor. The descent let Sin look out through the 
many levels of the Lorica tower and at the crowds of 
people there. Level after level of shops and offices and 
apartments strobed past, yet, while he saw them all and 
cataloged the weaknesses of Lorica's security, his mind 
wandered to gnaw on a more immediate problem. 
Michael Loring/Coyote and Damon Crowley had clearly 
bought the tabloid story about a giant spider attacking 
Phoenix. Even though he had slept through the whole 
storm, he'd heard enough people talk about it that he 
knew it was decidedly odd. He'd even heard rumors about 
what the APS crew working at the base of the Lorica tower 
had found amid the ashes and broken PV cells. Even so, 
he couldn't buy it. 
He knew he had a good imaginationa necessity to 
successfully work a corporate security beat. Thinking 
ahead of all the impossible ways to break security was the 
only way to ensure that it would not be broken. During his 
time in Japan, he showed his corporate masters tricks 
they had never dreamed of. He'd personally played for 
hours with one of the Tojicorp units to figure out how to 
crack it. 
Despite that, however, he found himself rigidly skeptical 
about all the odd things reported about the world. He 
fully accepted that yeti might exist in Tibet's mountains, 
but he wasn't going to believe it until he and someone like 
Lilith spent an evening lounging on a yeti pelt in front of 
a warm fire. That went double and triple for tales of 
zombies and downed flying saucers and aging Nazi 
menaces from the hollow Earth. 
Sin admitted to himself that he liked Coyote and 
admired him for the cool courage with which the man had 
broken into his apartment the night before the storm. He 
appreciated Coyote's sense of loyalty to Hal Garrett and 
even respected Coyote's chameleonlike ability to slip into 
the Michael Loring identity so quickly. 
The man's belief in the giant spider story, though, 
disturbed him. Coyote immediately wanted to send 
him to Japan to chase down a murder academy run by 
agents of this giant daddy-longlegs. This supposed the 
existence of this mythical spider and the actual existence 
of the assassin training center. Neither of those 
things was assured to be anything beyond Coyote's 
personal fantasies. 
The mission made no sense, and it made even less 
sense for him to accept the job. 
The doors whooshed open and let him out across from 
the maglev VIP lounge. 

been cut above him, but it gradually slowed as it neared 
the 12th floor. The descent let Sin look out through the 
many levels of the Lorica tower and at the crowds of 
people there. Level after level of shops and offices and 
apartments strobed past, yet, while he saw them all and 
cataloged the weaknesses of Lorica's security, his mind 
wandered to gnaw on a more immediate problem. 
Michael Loring/Coyote and Damon Crowley had clearly 
bought the tabloid story about a giant spider attacking 
Phoenix. Even though he had slept through the whole 
storm, he'd heard enough people talk about it that he 
knew it was decidedly odd. He'd even heard rumors about 
what the APS crew working at the base of the Lorica tower 
had found amid the ashes and broken PV cells. Even so, 
he couldn't buy it. 
He knew he had a good imaginationa necessity to 
successfully work a corporate security beat. Thinking 
ahead of all the impossible ways to break security was the 
only way to ensure that it would not be broken. During his 
time in Japan, he showed his corporate masters tricks 
they had never dreamed of. He'd personally played for 
hours with one of the Tojicorp units to figure out how to 
crack it. 
Despite that, however, he found himself rigidly skeptical 
about all the odd things reported about the world. He 
fully accepted that yeti might exist in Tibet's mountains, 
but he wasn't going to believe it until he and someone like 
Lilith spent an evening lounging on a yeti pelt in front of 
a warm fire. That went double and triple for tales of 
zombies and downed flying saucers and aging Nazi 
menaces from the hollow Earth. 
Sin admitted to himself that he liked Coyote and 
admired him for the cool courage with which the man had 
broken into his apartment the night before the storm. He 
appreciated Coyote's sense of loyalty to Hal Garrett and 
even respected Coyote's chameleonlike ability to slip into 
the Michael Loring identity so quickly. 
The man's belief in the giant spider story, though, 
disturbed him. Coyote immediately wanted to send 
him to Japan to chase down a murder academy run by 
agents of this giant daddy-longlegs. This supposed the 
existence of this mythical spider and the actual existence 
of the assassin training center. Neither of those 
things was assured to be anything beyond Coyote's 
personal fantasies. 
The mission made no sense, and it made even less 
sense for him to accept the job. 
The doors whooshed open and let him out across from 
the maglev VIP lounge. 


Phoenix is my home and I'm not sure trooping off to 
Yakuzaland is such a winner of an idea. 

Phoenix is my home and I'm not sure trooping off to 
Yakuzaland is such a winner of an idea. 

Okay, Coyote, here's your chance to score some credibility 
points. He crossed to a cement bench and sat. He 
opened the case and pulled out a manila envelope. 
Undoing the clasp he popped it open and smiled as he 
pulled another ID card from it. Picture's not the greatest, 
but it will do. He tossed his old card into the case along 
with the envelope, then snapped it shut and again approached 
the lounge doors. 


The attendant had already started to reach for the 
button that summoned security, but her hand froze in 
place as his new ID card slipped into the slot and the doors 
buzzed. Sinclair stepped through them and pulled his card 
from the return slot. Slipping it into his pocket, he glanced 
up at the video display to see when the next car was 
leaving, then took a seat well away from a pair of men who, 
though they were wearing business suits, could have gone 
a long way toward proving zombies did exist. 
The attendant left her booth and walked over to him. 
"Sir, you shouldn't be here." 
Sin rolled his eyes to heaven. "I have a valid ID, Miss. 
I'm in." 
She smiled nervously and lowered her voice. "No sir, 
that's not the problem." She gently took hold of his upper 
right arm. This is just the normal lounge. If you'll come 
with me." 
Curious, Sin took out the ID card he'd used and looked 
closely at it. It resembled the one his father's corporation 
had issued except in three things: the corporate hologram 
in the corner represented Lorica, his job description was 
executive vice president for Special Liaison Affairs, and it 
had a white border around it. He'd never seen the white 
border before. This surprised him because, as a security 
officer at Build-more, he thought he had seen everything. 
She led him to a door near the point where the front of 
the train would end up when boarding began. "Your carte 
blanche, please," she whispered as she gently tugged at 
his ID card. He let go and she slipped it into a slot beside 
the door. The door itself slid up into the ceiling, admitting 
them to a dark alcove. When the door shut behind them, 
another opened in front, and they stepped into what 
looked to Sin to be a bar. 
The rectangular room had a full bar with two bartenders 
behind it across from him. The far end had a sound system 
and a dance floor complete with a revolving mirrored ball 
and a floor that changed colors by blocks. Tables with 
candles glowing softly filled the space between the door 
and the dance floor. Doorways leading into smaller 
alcoves appeared every 10 feet or so along the walls and 
two of them were shut. 
Sin frowned. What in hell? 
Lounging at the bar, sipping drinks from tall glasses, 
Sin saw a half-dozen young men and women all look at 
him when he came in. The attendant pressed his ID card 
back into his hand and smiled. "I will be leaving now, sir." 
Her smile broadened hopefully. "Unless you want me to 
stay." 
Sin shook his head to clear it, which killed her smile. 
She started to drift from sight, but Sin turned and thanked 
her. "And the door over there, at this end of the bar, that's 


where I board the train?" 
She nodded. "Your ID will open it for you." 
Sin thanked her again, then drifted to the bar. He 
glanced down at the women, then looked up at the 
bartender. "I never knew this was here." 
The man gave him a chummy wink. "I had you pegged 
as a first-timer. Yeah, you get a corp to issue you a carte 
blanche and anything goes. What do you want?" 
"A beerHenry Weinhard's if you have it." Sin saw a 
leggy brunette who reminded him too much of an unpleasant 
memory named Christina approaching from 
farther down the bar. He held his hand up. "Just a beer, 
thanks." 
She stopped and returned to her stool with the sort of 
walk that made Sin almost regret his decision. The 
bartender set a sweating bottle down in front of him, then 
headed back to talk to the loungers, leaving Sin alone. Sin 
took a long pull on the beer, letting it burn its way down 
his throat. Giant spiders invading Phoenix? Coyote must 
have known this place existed and I didn't. Perhaps he 
does know what he is talking about 
The nurse on the 10th floor of Phoenix General kindly 
directed Sin to Wing 5 and Room 42. Sin felt he probably 
could have found the room on his own, but his introduction 
to the hyperspeed lane of corporate life in Phoenix had 
disoriented him somewhat. While the carte blanche section 
of the maglev did not offer the wide range of services 
supplied by the lounge, it did have a small gift shop 
section, so he grabbed some candy to bring with him. 
Sin knocked lightly on the door as he pushed it open. 
"Mr. Garrett, I'm Sinclair MacNeal. I don't know if you'll 
remember..." Sin's voice trailed off as he saw he was not 
Garrett's only visitor. 
Garrett himself lay in an extra-long hospital bed with the 
back elevated at a 30-degree angle. Two intravenous 
feedsone clear and the other a pinkish colordelivered 
liquid through one needle in his right forearm and the other 
on the back of his right hand. A thin, clear tube ran beneath 
his nose and fed him oxygen. Despite Garrett's being 
garbed in a hospital gown, Sin could see where the fabric 
pulled taut against the bandages on his stomach and 
chest. 
He looked alert, and the tight lines around his eyes 
suggested to Sin that Garrett was not taking full advantage 
of pharmaceutical science's advances in painkiller technology. 
The big African-American man raised his left 
hand weakly, then dropped it in a gesture of resignation, 
or invitation to him to enter. "MacNeal...met you at fund-
raiser...your father gave $10,000." 
Letting the door close behind him, Sin nodded to 
Garrett and the other occupant whom he recognized. 


Standing in the corner, near the foot of the bed was a man 
who, while not as tall as Garrett, certainly massed more. 
Dark, tight eyes look out at him from a lantern-jawed head 
that might as well have been cast in iron. The man's 
muscular build and even the way he held his fists balled 
and ready for action made Sin think of him as the model 
for every neosocialist hero statue he'd seen in Tirane. 
Looks like he's wearing the same Hell's Belles T-shirt he 
had on the night he came with Coyote to my apartment. 
Doesn't look as if he's washed it since then, either. 

Standing in the corner, near the foot of the bed was a man 
who, while not as tall as Garrett, certainly massed more. 
Dark, tight eyes look out at him from a lantern-jawed head 
that might as well have been cast in iron. The man's 
muscular build and even the way he held his fists balled 
and ready for action made Sin think of him as the model 
for every neosocialist hero statue he'd seen in Tirane. 
Looks like he's wearing the same Hell's Belles T-shirt he 
had on the night he came with Coyote to my apartment. 
Doesn't look as if he's washed it since then, either. 


appraising him and his abilities. As Sin opened his 
briefcase, he noticed that Bat continued to glower at him. 
He pulled out the folder and extended it to Natch. 
Natch broke the seal, then reversed the folder and 
opened it in Hal's lap. Hal's eyes flicked back and forth as 
he scanned the document, then he laid back and closed 
his eyes for a second. He drew in a deep breath, hesitated 
for a second, forced himself to take in yet a little bit more 
air, then slowly exhaled. "Jytte, read it." His left index 
finger pointed forward. "Tell them." 
Jytte took the folder from him and scanned it very 
quickly. "Coyote has left Phoenix for a while. He wants us 
to stay low-profile. If something of importance comes up, 
we are to contact him through Mr. MacNeal here, in 
Tokyo." Her eyes flashed at him. "Why you, MacNeal?" 

appraising him and his abilities. As Sin opened his 
briefcase, he noticed that Bat continued to glower at him. 
He pulled out the folder and extended it to Natch. 
Natch broke the seal, then reversed the folder and 
opened it in Hal's lap. Hal's eyes flicked back and forth as 
he scanned the document, then he laid back and closed 
his eyes for a second. He drew in a deep breath, hesitated 
for a second, forced himself to take in yet a little bit more 
air, then slowly exhaled. "Jytte, read it." His left index 
finger pointed forward. "Tell them." 
Jytte took the folder from him and scanned it very 
quickly. "Coyote has left Phoenix for a while. He wants us 
to stay low-profile. If something of importance comes up, 
we are to contact him through Mr. MacNeal here, in 
Tokyo." Her eyes flashed at him. "Why you, MacNeal?" 

Before Sin could answer, Hal shifted stiffly in bed. 
"Because we need to be here to work on preventing a 
gang war, Natch." 
"Besides, I lived in Japan for a while and I know my way 
around." 
"Don't be so cocky, MacNeal." Bat cracked his knuckles. 
"There's another reason you're going." 
Sin's eyes narrowed. "Yes?" 
"You're not connected with Coyote." 
"And?" 
Bat grinned like a cannibal in a morgue. "And that 
means you're expendable." 



Wandering through the Nevada badlands at night, she 
felt the presence of the snake well before she saw it or 
heard the warning buzz of its rattles. She turned and saw 
it in the moonshadow of a large rock. A coiled mass of 
muscle, with black circles running down its tan spine, only 
its head and the quickly vibrating scales at the end of its 
tail stood out. 
The snake's buzzing increased as she reached her hand 
out to it. The creature's threat-panic emanated out from 
it as if riding the sound waves. She recognized the terror 
rising from it and knew instantly that this creature would 
strike to protect itself. Squatting down on her haunches, 
she pulled her hand back and stuffed both of them into the 
pockets of the leather flight jacket she had stolen from the 
base. 
Drawing in a deep breath of cool night air, she banished 
her fatigue and concentrated. Envisioning the snake's 
fear as ripples circling out from a central point, she 
fashioned her thoughts as a spear and drove them back 


through the reptile's primitive display. 

through the reptile's primitive display. 

Though she composed her thoughts in words, she sent 
them as emotions of safety and satisfaction. The Mohave 
rattlesnake ceased its threat display altogether, then 
slowly and languidly uncoiled. Gliding forward effortlessly, 
the four-foot-long snake slid from the rock and 
approached her. It stopped two feet away and half coiled 
to strike but did not begin rattling again. 
She slowly withdrew her left hand from the jacket and 
extended it. I am Rajani. I will not harm you. 
The creature flickered its tongue over her hand, then 
withdrew a bit. 

Yes, I taste different. Not your prey at all. We will be 
allies. She opened her jacket and unbuttoned the fatigue 
shirt at the waist. The snake slid forward and entered the 
darkness between her flesh and the rough cotton fabric of 
the shirt, it went all the way around her waist better than 
two times, its scaled hide feeling slick and warm against 
the flesh of her belly. 
Rajani stood slowly, waiting for the slap of rattles 
against her flank to warn her if she was in danger of a 
strike. She felt confident that the snake's venom would not 
hurt her because of her alien constitution, but she was not 
absolutely certain of that fact. Since she knew she could 
process food from Earth, and her parents had told her that 
humans and her people could produce hybrids, she 
realized that the basic protein chains that made up her 
body were the same as those found in most of the things 
the snake ate. 
Her two-day trek out of the base designated "Area 51" 
had not been an easy one. The actual escape from the 
base had been much easier than she expected, but she put 
that down to security having been arranged to keep 
snoopers out instead of people in. The guards directed all 
their attention to things happening outside. 
Emerging from the depths of the mountain, she had 
managed to steal the flight jacket to ward off the cold. She 
initially took finding it as a grand stroke of luck: It had been 
packed away with other warm clothing in a trunk. The 
barracks room was obviously used for storageshe 
sensed no impressions of anyone having visited the room 
within the last three months. She could not understand 
why such a valuable coat would remain forgotten when it 
was so cold. 
She took it, a smaller pair of boots and a boonie hat into 
which she stuffed her hair. Looking in a mirror in the room, 


she imagined seeing herself through the eyes of a human 
and concluded, because of the way the clothes draped her 
so completely, she would easily be mistaken for a juvenile 
wearing an adult's clothing. The benefit of the oversized 
clothes was that they deemphasized the fact that her head 
was a bit disproportionately large for her body. 
The most difficult part of her escape came as she 
attempted to leave the secure portion of the base. Luckily 
for her, two black, bat-wing planes swooped low for 
tandem landings on the long airstrip. As they touched 
down and raced along the dry lake bed, the two air police 
manning the gate turned to watch. 
She took that opportunity to telepathically add in the 
image of a spaceship, one of the ships on which her 
parents had arrived on Earth, to the tableau. While that 
addition clearly interested them, they accepted it far more 
readily than she had expected. She sensed no surprise 
from them, and no anxiety, which is what she had largely 
recalled a ship's presence creating before. 
"Looks like they've got the F-42 out for night maneuvers." 
The African-American guard pulled off his cap and 
scratched his head. "Wonder if that thing can see the 
Stealths?" 
His partner laughed aloud. "C'mon, my kid's got a radar 
gun that can spot those antiques on the wing. The tech 
those onion-heads have can read it molecule by molecule." 
"I guess." 
Rajani raced out into the Nevada desert With the term 
onion-head had come an undercurrent of fear and hatred. 
That immediately sparked a bitter memory of the fights 
Dr. Chandra used to have with his research assistant, 
Nicholas Hunt. Whenever the little man with a lopsided 
head had looked at her, she had sensed the same fear-
based hatred, and it abated only slightly when his focus of 
attention shifted from her to Dr. Chandra. 
He called it prejudice. On an intellectual level she had 
understood how fear of the unknown and uncertainty 
about the future can fester into a knot of hatred for 
anything different and possibly superior. Because of her 
empathic abilities, however, Rajani had experienced the 
virulence of the hatred in a way that Dr. Chandra never 
could, and she wondered if its strength had been what 
warped Nicholas' features and head, instead of the childhood 
accident he claimed. 
The gentle tickle of the snake's rattles against her side 
brought her back to the present. At first she thought the 
snake had been picking up on the emotions triggered by 
the memories, but then the night breeze brought the 
sound of the whimpering dog and a sobbing child to her. 


Though faint, she knew the sounds came from very close 
by. Pointing her face into the wind, then turning her head 
left and right in two scans, she located the source of the 
sound and headed toward it. 
She used a dry wash to make her approach. The banks 
only rose up about three feet above the sandy bed. 
Tumbleweeds and some small prickly-pear cactus grew 
up along the edges, which helped shield her, but she still 
had to crouch. Working forward slowly, her night vision 
allowing her to avoid stepping on anything that might 
make a sound, she reached the outskirts of a small 
campsite. 
Huddled in the darkness, she studied the situation using 
all her senses. She saw two children clinging to each other, 
and a mutt of a dog with them. The larger one spoke softly 
to the smaller, but her words did nothing to dull the terror 
radiating from the boy like heat from a blast furnace. Both 
wore rags, and dust caked them except where it had 
smeared across their cheeks from wiping away tears. 
Though the larger one did her best to hide her feelings, she 
became the minor star in a binary system of fear. 
Like the mongrel beside them, the children had both 
been chained to a metal stake driven into the ground just 
beyond a small fire. Rajani sensed a connectionan 
alliancebetween them and the dog. Beyond them, 
almost eclipsed by the strength of the young boy's terror, 
she picked up the random emotional patterns of two other 
individuals. She could not determine age or sex because 
of the degree of interference caused by the boy, but the 
steady level of their feelings told her they were unconscious. 
Like a shadow, Rajani moved into the camp. The sheer 
shock of the surprise exploding from the girl when she saw 
her nearly made Rajani cry out. She raised a hand in 
caution to the girl, then held it out to the left so the dog 
could get a noseful of her. Yes, brother mine, I have come 
to strengthen your pack. I will free you and your companions. 


Though faint, she knew the sounds came from very close 
by. Pointing her face into the wind, then turning her head 
left and right in two scans, she located the source of the 
sound and headed toward it. 
She used a dry wash to make her approach. The banks 
only rose up about three feet above the sandy bed. 
Tumbleweeds and some small prickly-pear cactus grew 
up along the edges, which helped shield her, but she still 
had to crouch. Working forward slowly, her night vision 
allowing her to avoid stepping on anything that might 
make a sound, she reached the outskirts of a small 
campsite. 
Huddled in the darkness, she studied the situation using 
all her senses. She saw two children clinging to each other, 
and a mutt of a dog with them. The larger one spoke softly 
to the smaller, but her words did nothing to dull the terror 
radiating from the boy like heat from a blast furnace. Both 
wore rags, and dust caked them except where it had 
smeared across their cheeks from wiping away tears. 
Though the larger one did her best to hide her feelings, she 
became the minor star in a binary system of fear. 
Like the mongrel beside them, the children had both 
been chained to a metal stake driven into the ground just 
beyond a small fire. Rajani sensed a connectionan 
alliancebetween them and the dog. Beyond them, 
almost eclipsed by the strength of the young boy's terror, 
she picked up the random emotional patterns of two other 
individuals. She could not determine age or sex because 
of the degree of interference caused by the boy, but the 
steady level of their feelings told her they were unconscious. 
Like a shadow, Rajani moved into the camp. The sheer 
shock of the surprise exploding from the girl when she saw 
her nearly made Rajani cry out. She raised a hand in 
caution to the girl, then held it out to the left so the dog 
could get a noseful of her. Yes, brother mine, I have come 
to strengthen your pack. I will free you and your companions. 



His panic was the empathic equivalent of staring at the 
sun with a telescope. She tucked her head down and 
raised her fists to her temples. Immediately, the shields 
she had once relied upon to keep her sane amid a world 
of emotions dropped into place, shutting everything out. 
Looking up, she could see the fear in the children's eyes, 
but it no longer assaulted her. 
She twisted the stake to the left, then back to the right, 
and yanked it out of the ground. The chains rattled a bit, 
but no more than they did when the children moved. She 
stood and slipped the ends of the chains off the stake. "You 
are free." 
A hand grabbed her right shoulder and spun her 
around. A huge man whose belly stretched a dirty plaid 
shirt to the point where it gapped open between the 
buttons looked down at her. "Whadda we got here?" He 
tried to bat her hat off, but the chinstrap held, leaving it to 
hang at her back. 
The flood of golden hair clearly surprised the man. 
"Boxer, check this out. We got us a night-thrill." He 
reached inside her jacket and grasped the lapels of her 
fatigue shirt. Pulling left and right, he popped buttons and 
exposed her breasts to the night air. "Oh, yeah, fine. She's 
mine first." 
Rajani, stunned and surprised by the man's appearance 
and the malignancy of his lust, could think of nothing 
as his big calloused hands brushed across her breasts and 
around to her back. He started to pull her forward, then he 
jerked sharply and screamed. Reeling backward, arms 
flailing, he stared wide-eyed at the snake hanging from his 
right wrist by its fangs. His heels caught on a rock and sent 
him flying back into a stand of cholla cactus. 
Boxer had awakened when his name had been called, 
but the scream brought him to his feet. Wearing only 
frayed jeans and holed socks, Boxer charged at Rajani like 
a bull. He snatched her up in a hug, but she managed to 
rake his face with her gold claws. Shrieking madly, he 
dropped her to the ground and clutched at his ruined face. 
She landed hard on the ground and fell back as blood 
streamed from between the man's fingers. Before Rajani 
could move, the dog shot at the man and sunk its teeth 
deeply into his right leg, bringing him down. Moving in 
concert with the dog, the little girl scooted forward on her 
butt and looped the length of chain around the man's 
throat. Planting her feet on his meaty shoulders, she 
yanked back with her hands while straightening her legs. 
The man's neck popped with a gunshot sound that 
made Rajani wince and the boy cry out. Rajani looked 
over at the other man, but she sensed nothing in the way 
of active emotions from him. His body twitched a bit, but 
his breathing came raggedly and his lack of reaction to the 


cactus festooning him told her he was suffering from a 
total central nervous system collapse. With its rattle 
playing an accompaniment to the sound of the man's 
dying breaths, the snake coiled itself on his chest. 
She scanned the area one more time, but felt nothing 
beyond the quartet of Earthlings around her. She shut 
herself off from the anger and hatred pouring from the girl, 
unprepared for such harsh emotions. The little boy continued 
to radiate panic, but it began to drop off as the dog 
trotted over to him and licked his face. 
Squatting down by the fire, Rajani used the one remaining 
button to close her blouse. "Are you unhurt?" 
The fire layered bright highlights into the girl's honey-
blond hair as she nodded. "Boxer knew I'd do him if I got 
the chance." 
The edge in the girl's voice shocked Rajani. She looked 
more closely at her and, through the thin fabric of the girl's 
soiled T-shirt, she detected the initial budding of the girl's 
breasts. She can be no more them 12 LMUs in age 
physically, but her voice and her anger... "I am Rajani." 
The girl let the chain go slack and slip through her 
fingers. "I'm Dorothy and that's Mickey. The big one, the 
one your snake got, that's Uncle Andy. Boxer was his 
friend. They brought me up here to sell me. I brought 
Mickey with me." 
"Sell you?" Rajani looked from Dorothy to the little boy, 
who remained hidden in the folds of the thin blanket they 
had been given. "But your parents, do they know?" 
"Know?" Dorothy pointed at Andy's body. "Check his 
pockets. My father gave him a bill of sale." 
"What?" 
"Well, daddy's not been right since Mommy died." 
Mickey began to whimper, so Dorothy turned toward him. 
"Quiet, quiet. It's not your fault. Daddy didn't mean it when 
he said it." 
The boy fell silent, but his anxiety began to radiate out 
again. Rajani smiled at his silhouette in an effort to draw 
him out, but he hunkered down, trying to make himself 
small and unnoticed. "Your brother is certainly shy." 
"Yes, he is. And I'm giving you the wrong impression of 
my father. He is a good man, really he is. Honest. He brung 
us up proper, too." She waved her brother forward. 
"Mickey, say 'thank you' to this nice woman for helping 
us." 
"Ang ou," he whispered from the darkness. He slowly 
made his way into the firelight and watched the dancing 
flames with bright fascination in his eyes. When he looked 
up and made eye contact with Rajani, she saw the flesh on 
his cheeks rise up around his eyes in a smile, but he kept 
his face half hidden with the blanket. 
"How old are you, Mickey?" 


Half the blanket slipped back over his left shoulder as 
his hand came out and displayed all his fingers. Rajani 
smiled. "Five?" 
The boy nodded emphatically. 
Dorothy reached out and stroked his brown hair, "It's 
okay, Mickey. She's a good person. If she weren't, Rex 
woulda bitten her." 
Rajani smiled reassuringly at Mickey, then glanced 
around the camp. "The truck has Arizona plates. You're 
not that far from your home, are you?" 
Dorothy shook her head. "No, we're from..." 
"Phlaya," Mickey shouted. As he did so, he pulled his 
right hand away from his face. Though she did not need 
it, the firelight fully illuminated the tangle of teeth in 
Mickey's misshapen face. They lined up like warped 
bowling pins behind one crooked incisor. His upper lip 
rose up and parted as if curtains on a stage, unable to hide 
his cleft palate or allow him to close his lips to speak. 
With Mickey's revelation, Rajani immediately caught 
Dorothy's hawklike scrutiny of her reaction. Over and 
above that, she sensed Mickey's courage dropping precipitously 
toward panic if she rejected him as had so many 
others. She wanted to reach out to him, but she held back 
for fear the boy might take any motion toward him as 
aggression. 
She looked at his sister. "Your mother died when 
Mickey was born?" 
Dorothy nodded. "There was lots of blood. I was seven. 
I've taken care of him since then. Dad had a girlfriend who 
helped for a while, but it's pretty much just been Mickey 
and me." She patted him on the head. "If you didn't catch 
it, he said 'Flagstaff' in reply to your question." 
Rajani nodded to Mickey. Thank you, Mickey, she 
sent to him telepathically. 
The boy looked at her, then tugged at his right ear. His 
sister looked at him with a concerned frown on her face. 
"Do you have another earache, Mickey? Because of his 
teeth and all, he had trouble with them. I think he has 
trouble hearing because of them, too." 
"I think he's okay, Dorothy." Rajani held her hands out 
to the fire. "No one has gotten medical help for your 
brother?" 
"Orfey!" Mickey beamed. 
The girl shook her head. "My father signed on as a 
proxxer for Daizaimoku Corp in Flag when my mom got 
pregnant with Mickey. Trying to save her ran up some 
bills, which Daisymuck said they'd cover, but at the 
expense of care for Mickey. They said if my mom had lived 
and they had her vote, too, they would have taken care of 
things. Mickey keeps getting sick, so that uses up what 
little credit my dad has built up with Daisymuck. Andy 


talked him into selling me to get the money to fix Mickey, 
but I knew that wouldn't happen, so I brought Mickey with 
me." 
The girl's eyes narrowed. "So, what's your story? Black 
skin, gold stripes and some really hot eye-mods. You one 
of them exotic dancers from Vegas or something? Or are 
you a gangbanger from Eclipse way out of your turf?" 
Rajani was pretty certain Dorothy was speaking English. 
She understood the first question and would have 
gone with it except that she knew nothing about Las Vegas 
and Dorothy seemed to feel the second explanation was 
more plausible by the feelings she gave off. "The latter. 
Got tricked into visiting Vegas, then abandoned." 
Dorothy smiled broadly. "Figured you were from Phoenix. 
You going back?" Insecurity poured from her as she 
continued. "We have to go back to Flag now, so we could 
travel together. Safety in numbers and all." 
Fenix? "I go to Pah-he-o-e-nicks." 
Dorothy shrugged. "Whatever, gangslang ain't my 
Jones. Flag's on the way to Phoenix, so you can come 
with us, 'kay?" The plea Dorothy managed to keep out of 
her voice rang off her emotionally like peals from a bell. 
So, Eclipse and Phoenix are synonymous. "Yes, traveling 
with you would be fine with me." Rajani reached out 
and gave Dorothy a big hug. Clearly, the world has 
changed during the time I spent in stasis. I went in hoping 
I could come out to help save the world from Fiddleback 
but, if it has changed so radically that fathers can sell their 
children, perhaps it is too late. 

talked him into selling me to get the money to fix Mickey, 
but I knew that wouldn't happen, so I brought Mickey with 
me." 
The girl's eyes narrowed. "So, what's your story? Black 
skin, gold stripes and some really hot eye-mods. You one 
of them exotic dancers from Vegas or something? Or are 
you a gangbanger from Eclipse way out of your turf?" 
Rajani was pretty certain Dorothy was speaking English. 
She understood the first question and would have 
gone with it except that she knew nothing about Las Vegas 
and Dorothy seemed to feel the second explanation was 
more plausible by the feelings she gave off. "The latter. 
Got tricked into visiting Vegas, then abandoned." 
Dorothy smiled broadly. "Figured you were from Phoenix. 
You going back?" Insecurity poured from her as she 
continued. "We have to go back to Flag now, so we could 
travel together. Safety in numbers and all." 
Fenix? "I go to Pah-he-o-e-nicks." 
Dorothy shrugged. "Whatever, gangslang ain't my 
Jones. Flag's on the way to Phoenix, so you can come 
with us, 'kay?" The plea Dorothy managed to keep out of 
her voice rang off her emotionally like peals from a bell. 
So, Eclipse and Phoenix are synonymous. "Yes, traveling 
with you would be fine with me." Rajani reached out 
and gave Dorothy a big hug. Clearly, the world has 
changed during the time I spent in stasis. I went in hoping 
I could come out to help save the world from Fiddleback 
but, if it has changed so radically that fathers can sell their 
children, perhaps it is too late. 
Looking at the ancient and beautiful monastery clinging 
to the mountainside, Coyote felt as if he had traveled 
a thousand years back through time on his journey to 
Tibet. Adjusting his Serengeti Vermillion sunglasses, he 
glanced over at Crowley. He wanted to see if the sight 
awed his companion, but instead caught the dark-haired 
occultist studying him for his reaction to it. They both 
laughed, then urged their little ponies onward along the 
narrow, winding trail. 
From Phoenix they had flown to LA and caught a flight 
direct to Tokyo. From there they transferred to a flight to 
New Delhi. That led to another flight to Guwahati, then to 
Paro, Bhutan and finally into Gonggar, Tibet. Each leg had 
been completed in smaller and smaller planes, including 
the last in which they flew in an old People's Liberation 
Army plane that had been repainted after Tibet reasserted 
its independence in 1999. 
At Gonggar they took a bus on the 60-mile trip into 


Lhasa. Crowley had commented that the capital looked a 
lot more festive than the last time he had been there. "In 
1985, when the Chinese hosted a celebration of the 20th 
anniversary of Tibet's autonomy, you couldn't see any 
signs that weren't written in Chinese. Now look at it; 
everything is Tibetan." 
Coyote had probed a bit more about Crowley's presence 
in Tibet at that time, but his companion seemed 
reluctant to expand upon his comments. Coyote knew 
there had been riots in the late 1980s to protest the 
Chinese domination of the region. Restrictions on foreign 
travel through the area had been fierce, and had remained 
so until 1997 when the Second Cultural Revolution had 
created so many problems for Beijing that they relaxed 
their grip on the outlying regions. Nei Mongol, Manchuria 
and Tibet revolted, kicking out the Han settlers through 
which the central government had tried to colonize their 
nations. After two years of bloody fighting in Tibet, the 
14th Dalai Lama returned on June 6, his birthday, and 
proclaimed Tibet free again. 
Throughout the journey from Lhasa to Shigaste and up 
to Namling, Coyote had seen plenty of evidence of the 
Tibetan war for independence. Maoist statues had been 
toppled, then left to be weathered by the sandblasting 
winds of Tibet. As Crowley explained when driving through 
Shigaste, "The people have left the Chinese monuments 
and buildings in the same state of repair that the First 
Cultural Revolution left Tibetan temples. They have devoted 
themselves to restoring their history and have left 
the Chinese things to rot." 
They abandoned their rented Range Rover in Namling 
and were met by a yellow-hatted monk with six horses. 
Crowley introduced the man as Getsul Khedrup, explaining 
that he was not yet a full monk, but well on his way to 
his final ordination. Following Khedrup, they rode their 
shaggy ponies up and out of the fertile central Yarlung 
Valley. For the next two days they continued up and away 
from civilization, seeing only nomads tending large herds 
of yaks as they went. 
The weather cooled as they climbed in altitude, but 
Coyote remained surprised at how seasonable the climate 
was. He had expected to need cold weather gear, but 
they were not assaulting Mount Everest. The thick yak-
hair blankets their guide had brought with them were more 
than enough to ward off the chilly night air. During the day, 
a thin shirt or jacket proved more than sufficient, especially 
since the desert plateau on which they traveled got 
so little rain. 
Coyote turned to Crowley as they approached the 
monastery. "It is beautiful. By the looks of it, it must have 
been one of the first restoration projects of the new 


government." 
Crowley shared a smile with Khedrup, then shook his 
head. "No restoration needed. The Chinese never shelled 
it like they did Norbulinka, the Jokhang, Sera Monastery 
or the Potala." 
This is a rather remote area. I guess getting here would 
have been difficult." 
"Actually, the Chinese wanted Kanggenpo destroyed 
very badly. The Dalai Lama stopped here on his way out 
of Tibet in March of 1959." Crowley pointed to some scars 
on the landscape. "It's been a good 50 years, but you can 
still see evidence of the elite mechanized division they sent 
out to get him and his family. Because he had escaped 
from Norbulinka disguised as a soldier, Mao Zedong put 
a crack unit on him." 
Coyote's eyes narrowed. "How could this monastery 
avoid damage?" He dropped a hand to the stainless steel 
pistol riding on his right hip. "I could hit the walls from here 
with my Wildey." 
"Ah, but you can see it; they could not. Even during the 
First Cultural Revolution, Mao wanted this place destroyed, 
but again his hunters could not find it." 
Coyote considered his words for a moment. "I take it 
this has something to do with my empathic abilities, my 
being a sensitive ? When you explained it all to me before, 
you likened it to being able to see in the ultraviolet range. 
I take it this place is rendered in ultraviolet, for all intents 
and purposes?" 
"Close and logical, but no." Crowley frowned for a 
moment, then pointed back toward the monastery. "What 
do you see?" 
Coyote looked up, then removed his glasses. Where he 
had once seen the tall ochre walls of the monastery, with 
tiled roofs and colorful banners flying from them, he saw 
nothing. "It's gone." 
"To continue your sight analogy, what would you see 
in a place where there was no light at all?" 
"Nothing." 
"Exactly." Crowley closed his eyes and Kanggenpo 
materialized out of thin air and again hung from the sheer 
mountainside. "Kanggenpo is one of a number of spots on 
the Earth in which empathic abilities are muted. Right now 
I am sending to you the image that I am getting from 
Khedruphe can see it because those shielding the 
lamasery are permitting him to see it. If I so desired, I could 
change the image in subtle ways, so you would only see 
what I passed on." 
"But if this place deadens my abilities, how will I learn 
what you are bringing me here to leam?" 
Crowley smiled easily. "I said muted, not deadened. 
Imagine weight training on a world with greater gravity 


than Earth. You will have to work harder to be able to break 
through. They will show you how. Kanggenpo is probably 
the only place on the planet where you can learn what you 
must know. And the only way you get here is to be led by 
someone who knows the way." 
The taller man settled his sunglasses over his eyes 
again. "Kanggenpo. You said it means 'ice temple.' If one 
has to be led here, how was it founded and how did you 
find it?" 
"I think the khenpo can better explain the history of 
Kanggenpo than I." Crowley gloved left hand strayed to 
his goatee and stroked it unconsciously. "I got here 
because I helped foil an assassination attempt on the 
Dalai Lama in the summer of 1989the Chinese government 
was trying to corner the market on stupid repression 
tactics that year. Word went out and I was brought to 
Kanggenpo much as you are being brought now." 
As their ponies struggled up the last steep section of the 
trail, the massive bronze gates in the monastery wall 
swung inward. Coming around a curve in the trail, Coyote 
caught his first glimpse of the lamasery's cobbled courtyard 
and the twin stone lions stretched down a long 
stairway to form the railings. Through the narrow viewing 
port the gate made, Coyote saw tantalizing bits and pieces 
of vast murals painted on the interior walls. 
Red-robed monks and their brown-robed students 
traveled in tiny knots throughout the ancient fortress. 
While he saw a few individuals that were not the typical 
black-haired ethnic Tibetans, that surprised Coyote less 
than another detail he noticed. "No women?" 
Crowley shook his head. "No women, which is a bit odd 
since Gelukpa Buddhism is a tradition built out of the 
Vajrayana tradition, which is known in the West as Tantric 
Buddhism. Tantric practices include esoteric sexual rituals 
and meditations, which outraged many missionaries 
and right-thinking folks in the West when they heard of it. 
Once monks in the Geluk tradition have mastered all five 
disciplines, tantric studies are open to them. Until that 
time, which will take a minimum of 20 years, they are 
strictly celibate and abstain from alcohol and narcotics." 
"What you've brought me here to study won't take 20 
years, will it?" 
"That anxious to see your executive assistant again, are 
you?" 
Coyote chuckled lightly. "Better her than Fiddleback, 
but I don't think either one would wait 20 years for me to 
complete my coursework here." 
"True. No, here you will be schooled in the third and 
fourth groups of Geluk studies. Oumah is the study of the 
path between extremes and Sunyata concerns itself with 
nonexistence or voidness." Crowley nodded at Khedrup. 


"He will be studying Oumah first, then Sunyata, because 
his goal is to become one with the universe and attain 
enlightenment. You will study them in reverse because 
you desire to learn how to flow through the universe." 
Their two ponies clip-clopped through the entryway 
and rapjungs labored to close the massive gates behind 
them. Ahead, Khedrup had already dismounted and 
another of the novitiates led his riding and pack ponies off. 
Their guide bowed to the red-robed monk slowly descending 
the steps, then ran off into the monastery's 
interior. 
Crowley sprang from his saddle as if he'd had more 
than a half-dozen hours of sleep in the past 36 and bowed 
to the monk. "Toshi dili, Lama Mong." 
The wizened monk smiled serenely and returned the 
bow. "Pyag dan-po-la, Mi-ma-yin." 
Coyote slowly swung down from his saddle, and his 
legs ached as they accepted his weight again. He nodded 
respectfully to the old monk, then followed it with a bow 
as a ragjung led his ponies off. "Nga min Coyote yjn, "he 
offered in the only Tibetan Crowley had taught him. 
The monk looked from Coyote to Crowley. "'Coyote'?" 
The old man scratched at his bald pate. "Ha ko ma song, 
Mi-ma-yin." 
"Kyi rkan-jnyis,"Crowley replied with a shrug. "'Coyote' 
is a word he did not understand. I translated for him. 
The monk nodded. "But does your friend know you 
called him a cur?" 
"No, he did not." The monk's use of flawless English 
surprised Coyote. "A coyote is a stepping stone between 
wolves and dogs." 
"Kyi-can, Mi-ma-yin, I think, not kyi rkan-jnyis." He 
smiled at Coyote. "Would you not think of it more as a 
jackal than a cur?" 
"Given the choice, yes, definitely." 
Mong nodded solemnly. "Then Kyi-can you shall be." 
Coyote thought he heard judgment in Mong's voice, but 
no emotions broke the serenity of the monk's expression. 
"Thank you, I think." 
Crowley let a look of indifference sweep across his face. 
"Mong is the khenpo of Kanggenpo." 
Again Coyote bowed to the old monk. Mong returned 
his bow, then offered him his hand. Coyote took it and 
found the small man had a surprisingly strong grip. His 
hands are calloused as well. He seems to be more than just 
an ascetic. 

"He will be studying Oumah first, then Sunyata, because 
his goal is to become one with the universe and attain 
enlightenment. You will study them in reverse because 
you desire to learn how to flow through the universe." 
Their two ponies clip-clopped through the entryway 
and rapjungs labored to close the massive gates behind 
them. Ahead, Khedrup had already dismounted and 
another of the novitiates led his riding and pack ponies off. 
Their guide bowed to the red-robed monk slowly descending 
the steps, then ran off into the monastery's 
interior. 
Crowley sprang from his saddle as if he'd had more 
than a half-dozen hours of sleep in the past 36 and bowed 
to the monk. "Toshi dili, Lama Mong." 
The wizened monk smiled serenely and returned the 
bow. "Pyag dan-po-la, Mi-ma-yin." 
Coyote slowly swung down from his saddle, and his 
legs ached as they accepted his weight again. He nodded 
respectfully to the old monk, then followed it with a bow 
as a ragjung led his ponies off. "Nga min Coyote yjn, "he 
offered in the only Tibetan Crowley had taught him. 
The monk looked from Coyote to Crowley. "'Coyote'?" 
The old man scratched at his bald pate. "Ha ko ma song, 
Mi-ma-yin." 
"Kyi rkan-jnyis,"Crowley replied with a shrug. "'Coyote' 
is a word he did not understand. I translated for him. 
The monk nodded. "But does your friend know you 
called him a cur?" 
"No, he did not." The monk's use of flawless English 
surprised Coyote. "A coyote is a stepping stone between 
wolves and dogs." 
"Kyi-can, Mi-ma-yin, I think, not kyi rkan-jnyis." He 
smiled at Coyote. "Would you not think of it more as a 
jackal than a cur?" 
"Given the choice, yes, definitely." 
Mong nodded solemnly. "Then Kyi-can you shall be." 
Coyote thought he heard judgment in Mong's voice, but 
no emotions broke the serenity of the monk's expression. 
"Thank you, I think." 
Crowley let a look of indifference sweep across his face. 
"Mong is the khenpo of Kanggenpo." 
Again Coyote bowed to the old monk. Mong returned 
his bow, then offered him his hand. Coyote took it and 
found the small man had a surprisingly strong grip. His 
hands are calloused as well. He seems to be more than just 
an ascetic. 


across the top, red-robed monks sat in the lotus position, 
chanting softly. In the south wall, Coyote noted the same 
arrangement, but the gate they surrounded had been 
carved of stone and could not be moved. To the north, 
hidden among smaller buildings, he saw one or two 
monks in place and assumed the rest were there as well. 
He also assumed there was a gate to the east, but both the 
north and east walls fit flush into the mountain. 
"If I might inquire, why do you have gates that lead 
nowhere and people watching them?" 
"They are pa-tsab. They serve as the guardians of 
Kanggenpo. They are the reason we remain undiscovered." 
Mong looked toward the stone gate in the south 
wall. "Twenty-seven at each gate adds up to the sacred 
number 108. We are warded well no matter which direction 
enemies might choose to come at us." 
"I see." 
"You will see even more, Coyote." Crowley clapped 
him on the shoulder. "I'll be leaving you here in Mong's 
very capable hands. O-na gha-le sku bzugs snan, Lama 
Mong." 
"O-na gha-le peb, Mi-ma-yin." The old monk bowed to 
Crowley and smiled at him. 
Crowley walked away from both men, heading south. 
He turned left, as if wanting to mount the stairs, but his 
image seemed to go two-dimensional. It slipped forward 
and vanished as if it had passed beyond some sort of 
invisible curtain. Without a sound, his lagging foot vanished 
and no evidence remained to suggest he had ever 
been there at all. 
"Mi-ma-yin has changed in body, but not spirit." Mong 
eyed him up and down, his gaze lingering on the massive 
silvery pistol on Coyote's hip. "I understand the reverse 
has happened with you, Kyi-can." 
"I suppose, yes, by way of contrast with Crowley, this 
is true. Does this concern you?" 
"Should it?" The monk watched him closely. 
"It should concern others, not you." Coyote kept his 
face neutral. "One thing I wish to know, if I might: Why do 
you call Crowley 'Mi-ma-yin'?" 
"When he first came to us, he had another identity, one 
of which Crowley was only a part. Mi-ma-yin means 'one 
who is not human.' It usually refers to ghosts, but in his 
case..." The old monk shrugged, and Coyote understood. 
Coyote folded his arms across his chest. "Then teach 
me what you taught him. The creature I hunt is not human, 
either." 

across the top, red-robed monks sat in the lotus position, 
chanting softly. In the south wall, Coyote noted the same 
arrangement, but the gate they surrounded had been 
carved of stone and could not be moved. To the north, 
hidden among smaller buildings, he saw one or two 
monks in place and assumed the rest were there as well. 
He also assumed there was a gate to the east, but both the 
north and east walls fit flush into the mountain. 
"If I might inquire, why do you have gates that lead 
nowhere and people watching them?" 
"They are pa-tsab. They serve as the guardians of 
Kanggenpo. They are the reason we remain undiscovered." 
Mong looked toward the stone gate in the south 
wall. "Twenty-seven at each gate adds up to the sacred 
number 108. We are warded well no matter which direction 
enemies might choose to come at us." 
"I see." 
"You will see even more, Coyote." Crowley clapped 
him on the shoulder. "I'll be leaving you here in Mong's 
very capable hands. O-na gha-le sku bzugs snan, Lama 
Mong." 
"O-na gha-le peb, Mi-ma-yin." The old monk bowed to 
Crowley and smiled at him. 
Crowley walked away from both men, heading south. 
He turned left, as if wanting to mount the stairs, but his 
image seemed to go two-dimensional. It slipped forward 
and vanished as if it had passed beyond some sort of 
invisible curtain. Without a sound, his lagging foot vanished 
and no evidence remained to suggest he had ever 
been there at all. 
"Mi-ma-yin has changed in body, but not spirit." Mong 
eyed him up and down, his gaze lingering on the massive 
silvery pistol on Coyote's hip. "I understand the reverse 
has happened with you, Kyi-can." 
"I suppose, yes, by way of contrast with Crowley, this 
is true. Does this concern you?" 
"Should it?" The monk watched him closely. 
"It should concern others, not you." Coyote kept his 
face neutral. "One thing I wish to know, if I might: Why do 
you call Crowley 'Mi-ma-yin'?" 
"When he first came to us, he had another identity, one 
of which Crowley was only a part. Mi-ma-yin means 'one 
who is not human.' It usually refers to ghosts, but in his 
case..." The old monk shrugged, and Coyote understood. 
Coyote folded his arms across his chest. "Then teach 
me what you taught him. The creature I hunt is not human, 
either." 

Sinclair MacNeal smiled in spite of himself as the 
America West flight attendant handed him his glass of 
Diet Pepsi. "Are you certain you don't want something 
stronger, Mr. MacNeal? You look like you've had a rough 
day, and it's only 8 a.m." 
"No and yes." He accepted the glass from her, and their 
fingers brushed against each other. He quickly read the 
name embroidered on her apron. Thank you, Erika. I'm 
afraid it's not a new day for me, just extra innings from 
yesterday." 
"I'll be back soon to see if you need anything else." She 
winked at him and continued her service to the first-class 
cabin of the America West 787. 
Sin laid his head back against the thick leather padding 
of the wide seat and sipped his soda again. This is insanity 
for me. I've no reason to go to Japan for a madman. He set 
the drink down and started worrying the package of 
almonds Erika had placed on his tray table. I've also got 
no reason to stay in Phoenix. 

Sinclair MacNeal smiled in spite of himself as the 
America West flight attendant handed him his glass of 
Diet Pepsi. "Are you certain you don't want something 
stronger, Mr. MacNeal? You look like you've had a rough 
day, and it's only 8 a.m." 
"No and yes." He accepted the glass from her, and their 
fingers brushed against each other. He quickly read the 
name embroidered on her apron. Thank you, Erika. I'm 
afraid it's not a new day for me, just extra innings from 
yesterday." 
"I'll be back soon to see if you need anything else." She 
winked at him and continued her service to the first-class 
cabin of the America West 787. 
Sin laid his head back against the thick leather padding 
of the wide seat and sipped his soda again. This is insanity 
for me. I've no reason to go to Japan for a madman. He set 
the drink down and started worrying the package of 
almonds Erika had placed on his tray table. I've also got 
no reason to stay in Phoenix. 

She never even made an attempt to stop me. She knew 
what was coming. 

Inside, he found his father sitting down to drinks with 
two other men. The first was a tall, slender man who could 
have benefited from having his hawk-beak nose pared 
down to normal size and having the scraps used to give 
him a chin. Sin recognized him as a Build-more employee 
from the Operations division. A bean counter. His name 
is Dodd. Watson Dodd. 

Darius and Dodd dwarfed the third man, yet the small 
man did not seem to take notice of their size differential. 
When Sin entered the room, his hands tightened down into 
fists, then opened again slowly. He snapped his heels 
together, bowed his blond head and grinned wolfishly. 
"Guten abend, Herr MacNeal." 
"Get bent, you fascist pygmy." Sin waved Dodd and the 
smaller man away contemptuously. "You both just remembered 
an urgent meetingDodd, your wife's delivering 
now and you, Heinrich, your Warriors just found 


another synagogue to vandalize." 
"Well, well, has the Prodigal Son returned?" Darius' left 
hand pressed Dodd down into a chair. Heinrich sat back 
and sipped his drink. "You should not be ordering my 
guests about." 
"Guests? You do not want them here, Father." Sin's 
long strides ate up the distance between him and the bar. 
"You and I are going to have it out, right here, right now." 
Darius smoothed his white hair into place at the back 
of his head, "It will have to wait. I need to brief Mr. Dodd 
on his duties as my new vice president in charge of 
security." 
"What!" Sin stared so hard at Dodd that the man's chest 
should have caved in. "That's my job." 
"That was your job, traitor." Darius' blue eyes burned 
with energy. "You were fired after your disgraceful conduct 
two weeks ago. Were it not for company policy 
offering two weeks' severance to all employees, you'd 
have been gone that second. You dared presume to order 
me to cease my financial relationship with the Warriors of 
the Aryan World Alliance." 
Heinrich looked shocked at that little revelation. "You 
wound me, Sinclair. I thought we were friends." 
"I'll wound you worse, you snake. Next time you decide 
to assassinate someone, why don't you pull the trigger 
yourself?" He looked at his father. "I just left the hospital 
where they've got Hal Garrett. He'll recover, but one of the 
bullets impinged on some nerve. Partial paralysis of his 
left leg. That's what the money you gave WAWA got you." 
Sin glared at Dodd. "When your child's born, be sure to 
tell him Daddy hires men to gimp good citizens for a living. 
Make your kid proud." 
His father shook his head. "Wait, you must forgive my 
son. He was too indulged as a child." 
"Oh, you're claiming me, now? That's more than you 
did when I grew up or the last time you fired me." Sin hit 
a hidden release on the bar, letting a panel swing out. He 
took a cut crystal glass from there and filled it with ice. 
"Your guests don't rate the good crystal, Dad?" 
Darius smoldered. "Your mother warped you." 
Sin laughed and filled his glass with Jameson's Irish 
Whisky. "Ah, blame it on Mother again because she 
named me." He looked at the other two men. "You've met 
my brothers Harpo, Hypo and Dumbo, haven't you?" 
"Alexander, Xerxes and Tiberius. Don't you dare disparage 
them because they are better sons than you could 
ever be." 
"Invertebrate zombies that worship the cornucopia that 
walks like a man." Sin took a slug of the whisky and let it 
burn its way down to his belly. "You've hated me since the 
start because I dared stand up to you. You can't walk all 


over me like you do them." 

over me like you do them." 

"Ah, the victor writes the history, is that it?" Sin set his 

glass down on the bar. "I think some minority reports 

would disagree with you." 

"How can you be like this, after all I've done for you?" 

His father's voice took on an offended tone. "If not for 

me..." 

"I might have actually been happy." 

"Are we doing to go over Christina again?" Sin's father 

looked pained. "I told you she was only after my money." 

Sin shook his head, then focused on Watson Dodd. "I 

come back from college with my fiancee, Christina. Dad 

tells me she's not good enough for me, only a gold digger. 

He then sends me off to London to deal with a problem in 

a site there. I'm gone for a month, at the end of which 

Chrissy breaks off our engagement. And guess why?" He 

pointed at his father. "She wasn't good enough for me, but 

she was for my father." 

"I just proved she was after my money." 

"But did you have to keep proving it for three years?" 

Sin pounded his right fist against his thigh. "Remember 

that, Dodd, when my father tells you that your wife is not 

good enough for you." 

Darius laughed lightly. "Are you through?" 

"Nope, we're through, Father. You're a bastard, always 

have been a bastard and always will be a bastard. I was 

going to demand my things, but no more. I want nothing 

from you." 

"And nothing you shall get." Darius pointed imperi


ously toward the door. "You no longer have a father." 

"I haven't had one since conception, so nothing's new 

there." 

"Run, run the way you always do." 

"I'm leaving, but not because that's what you com


mand me to do." Sin tossed down the rest of the whisky. 

"I'm going because I'll be beyond your reach. I know, in 

the long run, that will bug you worse than having me be 

under your thumb here." 

Sin hammered his fist down into the armrest. How 

could I have been so stupid. He orchestrated that confron


tation. He knew what I'd do. I shouldn't have given him 

the satisfaction. 

Erika slid into the open seat beside him. "Mind if a catch 
my breath?" 
Sin shook his head. "I welcome the company. Are you 
based in Phoenix or Tokyo?" 
"Phoenix, but I have two weeks in Tokyo after this run." 
She tucked her blond hair behind her left ear. "Business 
or pleasure in Japan for you, Mr. MacNeal?" 
"Sinclair. I don't honestly know. New job, so I hope a bit 



of both." 
She patted him on the knee. "I hope so, too." She 
glanced at her watch, then tapped the flat LCD screen built 
into the seat in front of him. "Are you going to watch the 
movie? It won a number of awards." 
"I know he's supposed to be the best since Olivier or 
Gibson, but I can't see Macaulay Caulkin as Henry V. I 
may just get some sleep." 
A tone sounded from back in the main cabin. "Well, 
sleep tight. I'll wake you before we land. Sweet dreams." 
Erika awakened Sin as the jet began its descent into 
Narita. The pilot brought the plane in smooth and level, 
touching down with only the slightest bump when the gear 
hit the ground. Sin looked out through the rain-streaked 
windows at the gray airport. The vision of a future 
nightmare that had prompted environmentalists to protest 
the opening of the airport back in the 1970s had come 
true. The creeping concrete plague had spread out from 
the airport and stretched as far as he could see. 
Sin completed the immigration forms Erika passed out. 
He noted he was staying at the New Palace Hotel. He 
peeled the barcoded stickers off his ticket sleeve and 
affixed them to the Customs portion of the form. Erika 
collected it along with all the others from first class, then 
led those privileged passengers out through the forward 
bulkhead. They filed down a short corridor to a pleasant, 
if antiseptic, waiting room. 
Erika handed the forms to a balding Japanese man in 
a blue and gray uniform, then headed back to the plane. 
"It was nice to meet you, Sinclair. Perhaps I'll see you in 
Tokyo." 
"That would be a most welcome surprise." He reached 
out and took her hand. 
She folded him into a hug and whispered, "I put your 
form on top, so you should get through first." 
He gave her a little extra squeeze to let her know he 
appreciated her effort, then reluctantly let her go. He found 
himself a seat in the waiting area and almost instantly 
regretted his choice. A wide-hipped matron with a fox-fur 
muffler sat down next to him and wedged her doggie-
carryall between them. The Shar-pei/Lhasa apso mix in 
the cage looked like a mountain of shag carpet with eyes. 
The woman crooned at the dog in low tones which could have 
been English, except for the -izzie, -uggams and -ookums 
suffixes. 
"Mr. Sinclair MacNeal?" the immigration man called 
out. 
Sin stood and crossed to the inspection station. He 
presented the ID card Coyote had gotten for him and saw 
the immigration official take special notice of it. "Konnichiwa." 



The man looked unimpressed with Sin's Japanese. 
"How are you today?" he asked amid stamping various 
forms. 

The man looked unimpressed with Sin's Japanese. 
"How are you today?" he asked amid stamping various 
forms. 

"Just okay? Well, it is a long flight, isn't it?" 

"Hai." 

"Mr. MacNeal, you need not speak Japanese to me. I 
am fully conversant in your tongue." The older man's gaze 
flickered toward a screen after he ran Sin's ID through the 
reader. He frowned, punched a button, then ran it through 
again. 
uDo-shitan-dayo? " 
"Nothing is wrong, Mr. MacNeal. I thought I had something 
here, but it appears not" The man hit Sin's immigration 
form with one final stamp. "Your luggage will be sent 
directly to the New Palace Hotel. Please enjoy your stay 
in Japan." 
"Domo arigato."Sin took his ID back from the immigration 
officer and passed through a little hallway and out a 
door to the main international concourse. He glanced at 
the overhead signs and started the long trek to the rail 
terminal to catch a train into Tokyo. 

Coyote is good. Somehow he managed to get the 
security alert on my identity reversed or canceled. He has 
influence here in Japan, which scores more points for him. 
Sin shook his head. When he'd left Japan three years 
before he'd done so under his own steam, but only just 
barely. In fact, until the jet had gotten out of Stinger missile 
range of the island, he wasn't willing to bet he was going 
to make it. Since that time, visitors had mentioned how he 
was considered persona non grata in the land of the Rising 
Sun. 
Slipping into the thick line of people heading toward the 
train station, Sin concentrated on letting their voices and 
the cadence of their words bring him back to the time 
before he left. After his father had stolen Christina, Sin had 
left the United States to work in Japan. Hired on as a 
security consultant, which initially meant he was to escort 
visitors from the US and keep them out of trouble, he rose 
up through the ranks at Raibyoin Corp fairly swiftly. His 
no-nonsense attitude about trouble, as well as his ability 
to act tough or use a gun, meant a lot in Japan. 
Out of the corner of his eye, Sin saw an improbably 
large Japanese man in a dark blazer move off a stool at 
a noodle stand. The man wore a pair of dark sunglasses 
and was clearly attempting to project an air of menace. 
Sin found him almost laughable, but the man moved into 
the stream of traffic in an effort to cut him off. 
I don't like this at all. Sin feigned moving deeper away 
from the behemoth, then cut for the noodle shop itself. The 
large man clawed his way back through the crowd to get 


at Sin, but by that time Sin had already passed beyond the 
counter and into the kitchen. The help in the back started 
shouting at him, but he smiled and repeated sumimasen 
to each of them, then he headed toward the back door. 
This is too easy. They've anticipated me. Sin turned the 
knob on the rear door and let the latch slip free. Then, 
leaning back, he kicked the door open as hard as he could. 
Cutting through the doorway low, he arced a right fist into 
the belly of the man on his left. The man doubled over, so 
Sin straightened him with a knee to the face then backhanded 
him down the security hallway that linked the 
various airport shops. 
Retreating one step, he put his back to the far wall and 
watched the door lethargically swing shut again. The man 
who had been standing behind it clearly had not expected 
it to open so swiftly. The doorknob had caught him in the 
groin, and he slowly sagged to the floor. 
Sin started to laugh aloud when another man slowly 
applauded from farther down the corridor. Sin looked at 
him, then nodded. "Konnichi-wa, Takagi Kazuo-san." 
"Konnichi-wa, Sinklaru-san. It is good to see you 
again, my friend." The stocky young Japanese man 
bowed to Sin, then shook his hand. "It has been three 
years, has it not?" 
"Hai." Sin smiled and looked at the man's hands. "I see 
your oyabun still hasn't got any of your fingers in a jar." 
Kazuo shrugged. "Uncle Takeshi sees too much of 
himself in me, I think. Now I see you've not lost any of your 
old piss 'n' vinegar." 
Sin shrugged appropriately. "They weren't bad, but I 
was looking for, and therefore reacting to, another threat 
level." 
"Ah, your friend Nagashita. Yes, well, you will love this: 
After he missed you when you left Japan, he was elevated 
to colonel and put in charge of the Internal Defense 
Cadre!" Kazuo clapped his hands. "Now that pit bull is at 
the emperor's beck and calland largely out of our hair." 
"To paraphrase John Paul Jones, give me another run 
at old Yamashiro Nagashita, and I could make him 
emperor." Sin draped his arm around his Yakuza friend's 
shoulders. "Give me a lift to my hotel, old friend. I 
smuggled two bottles of Glenfiddich out of Phoenix. One 
can be for your uncle, but the other we'll use to toast the 
good fortune of the IDC." 
"And then you will tell me why you have returned?" 
That I will, Kazuo, because the only way I will do what 
has to be done is with your help." 

at Sin, but by that time Sin had already passed beyond the 
counter and into the kitchen. The help in the back started 
shouting at him, but he smiled and repeated sumimasen 
to each of them, then he headed toward the back door. 
This is too easy. They've anticipated me. Sin turned the 
knob on the rear door and let the latch slip free. Then, 
leaning back, he kicked the door open as hard as he could. 
Cutting through the doorway low, he arced a right fist into 
the belly of the man on his left. The man doubled over, so 
Sin straightened him with a knee to the face then backhanded 
him down the security hallway that linked the 
various airport shops. 
Retreating one step, he put his back to the far wall and 
watched the door lethargically swing shut again. The man 
who had been standing behind it clearly had not expected 
it to open so swiftly. The doorknob had caught him in the 
groin, and he slowly sagged to the floor. 
Sin started to laugh aloud when another man slowly 
applauded from farther down the corridor. Sin looked at 
him, then nodded. "Konnichi-wa, Takagi Kazuo-san." 
"Konnichi-wa, Sinklaru-san. It is good to see you 
again, my friend." The stocky young Japanese man 
bowed to Sin, then shook his hand. "It has been three 
years, has it not?" 
"Hai." Sin smiled and looked at the man's hands. "I see 
your oyabun still hasn't got any of your fingers in a jar." 
Kazuo shrugged. "Uncle Takeshi sees too much of 
himself in me, I think. Now I see you've not lost any of your 
old piss 'n' vinegar." 
Sin shrugged appropriately. "They weren't bad, but I 
was looking for, and therefore reacting to, another threat 
level." 
"Ah, your friend Nagashita. Yes, well, you will love this: 
After he missed you when you left Japan, he was elevated 
to colonel and put in charge of the Internal Defense 
Cadre!" Kazuo clapped his hands. "Now that pit bull is at 
the emperor's beck and calland largely out of our hair." 
"To paraphrase John Paul Jones, give me another run 
at old Yamashiro Nagashita, and I could make him 
emperor." Sin draped his arm around his Yakuza friend's 
shoulders. "Give me a lift to my hotel, old friend. I 
smuggled two bottles of Glenfiddich out of Phoenix. One 
can be for your uncle, but the other we'll use to toast the 
good fortune of the IDC." 
"And then you will tell me why you have returned?" 
That I will, Kazuo, because the only way I will do what 
has to be done is with your help." 

Rajani knew as she stared down at her sleeping body, 
that she was dreaming. 
The snake lay coiled beside Rajani, using her body as 
a shield between itself and Rex. Mickey had curled himself 
up into a ball with Rex curving his body to fit along 
Mickey's spine. Dorothy lay between Rajani and Mickey 
with her fingers tangled in her brother's dark hair. At their 
feet, a bed of coals glowed from within a circle of stones. 
Above them, dark clouds hid the wide, starry bowl of 
the sky. Earlier in the day, when their last ride left them off 
outside Ash Fork, the sky had been blue. The thought of 
camping out in what had been the Prescott National 
Forest seemed like a pleasant adventure. The arrival of 
the midsummer monsoon clouds as the day cooled made 
Rajani reassess her judgment, but the kids did not seem 
to mind. 
Even as she studied the wooded landscape around her, 
it began to shift. A putrid green light bled into the clouds 
and all the pine trees picked up the malevolent glow. Red 
streamers shot through the clouds and the rusty pine 
needles began to pulsate as if they were metal and being 
heated. Unconsciously, Rajani raised her hands to pull in 
the heat she knew should have been present, but instead 
felt herself being drained of warmth and vitality. 
The landscape began to blur into a green-red maelstrom. 
The colors thickened, flooding over her and her 
companions. The bloody red ground curved up and the 
green sky down to capture her in a sphere. Where the two 
bowls met, little eddies swirled the colors together, locking 
the bowls together with a black line. 
What is this? She reached her hands out, and even 
though they did not seem to touch the inside of the sphere, 
she felt resistance at the black line. She tried to twirl her 
fingers in the direction opposite the swirls that had locked 
things down, but she could not get the line to separate 
again. I'm trapped. 
Above her, the green dome began to boil. As she 
looked up, a crystalline lattice with a curiously weblike 
design worked into it drilled down into the sphere. It 
glowed rhythmically with power. Needle-nosed and possessing 
a slender body, it slid into the sphere and left a 
gaping hole behind it. Rajani began to will herself toward 
the opening, but the crystal swerved toward her and sliced 
across the surface of her right thigh. 
She cried out in pain, but quickly recognized the agony 
as being well beyond physical. She broke through the wall 
of pain and for a second found herself eavesdropping on 
the thoughts of Fiddleback. No match! blasted into her 
brain, then the crystal had passed on and took the pain 
with it. 
Rajani felt herself drawn along behind the crystal auger 


like a swimmer caught in the wake of a ship. Her first 
impulse was to resist it, but then it swooped down toward 
Dorothy and her brother. She let herself be pulled after it 
and reached out with her left hand to touch the aft end of 
the pulsing gray crystal. 
Again the pain hit her, but she steeled herself against 
it. No match! She shot into the matrix as it plunged in at 
the children. She felt the searching drone check itself and 
saw a tantalizingly brief glimpse of the search target. Not 
Jaeger/Coyote! the drone concluded and began to spin 
furiously. 
Rajani withdrew her hand, but let herself remain in 
position to draft off the crystal construct, it whirled 
through the sphere and broke out through the other side. 
The globe that had been her reality exploded like a balloon 
shot through with a bullet and she burst out through into 
a realm of darkness and twinkling starlight. 
Looking out, she saw other lights dip and dive through 
the dark. They shot in at glowing lights like moths 
attacking flames, and she realized these mobile lights 
were other searcher drones akin to the one she followed. 
They are searching for Jaeger/Coyote. Is it safe to assume 
he knows of Fiddleback's defeat? 

like a swimmer caught in the wake of a ship. Her first 
impulse was to resist it, but then it swooped down toward 
Dorothy and her brother. She let herself be pulled after it 
and reached out with her left hand to touch the aft end of 
the pulsing gray crystal. 
Again the pain hit her, but she steeled herself against 
it. No match! She shot into the matrix as it plunged in at 
the children. She felt the searching drone check itself and 
saw a tantalizingly brief glimpse of the search target. Not 
Jaeger/Coyote! the drone concluded and began to spin 
furiously. 
Rajani withdrew her hand, but let herself remain in 
position to draft off the crystal construct, it whirled 
through the sphere and broke out through the other side. 
The globe that had been her reality exploded like a balloon 
shot through with a bullet and she burst out through into 
a realm of darkness and twinkling starlight. 
Looking out, she saw other lights dip and dive through 
the dark. They shot in at glowing lights like moths 
attacking flames, and she realized these mobile lights 
were other searcher drones akin to the one she followed. 
They are searching for Jaeger/Coyote. Is it safe to assume 
he knows of Fiddleback's defeat? 

Except him. He radiates nothing. 

"The drones are hunting Coyote but, even so, I am not 
anxious to make myself a target." 
Rajani nodded sharply, then concentrated. She brought 
her mental defenses into play, neatly snuffing the glow 
surrounding her. "Who are you? What are you?" 
Again the man-thing ignored her questions. "You have 
to leave here. Your trick to deflect the hunter away from 
the child worked because the creatures monitoring these 


devices are slow and stupid. Unfortunately, your display 
may have alerted others. You must return and protect the 
child." 
Who are you? She sent such vehemence that a 
tremor shook the man holding her. A golden bolt of 
energy seemed to emerge from her forehead and punch 
through his chest. His eyes and nostrils lit with goldfire, 
then black again subsumed it. He jerked back, releasing 
her, and held his head in his hands. In that confusing 
moment she caught wrath and wraith from him, but 
nothing that really answered her question. 
"You are very good, but out of control. Look!" He 
pointed off into the sky and she saw a dozen of the probes 
orienting themselves on the both of them. 
"I am sorry..." 
"Save it. Protect the child; he is in danger." The shadow 
man pointed down toward the glowing circle of light below 
them, and Rajani saw a smaller triangle of red lights 
moving in toward it. "You deal with that problem and I will 
take care of the probes. Go, now!" 
Rajani pointed her toes and raised her arms. She 
slipped down through the darkness as if it were a greased 
tunnel and arrived at her destination far more swiftly than 
she could have hoped. Above her she saw a silver-blue 
light outline the man, then it metamorphosed into a 
glowing silver behemoth that smashed two of the probes 
together into blazing dust. 
Rajani felt a wrenching sense of chaos as she touched 
and reentered her body. She forced it awake, snapping 
her eyes open. She rolled over to her right and touched 
Dorothy's leg. "Wake up, Dorothy, wake up." 
"What?" Dorothy brushed blond hair from her face. 
"Geez, what happened to you?" 
Rajani felt a cold stickiness on her right leg. She looked 
down and saw a dark splotch on the right thigh where the 
crystal had touched her. I'm bleeding. She pressed her 
hand to the wound and black blood oozed up between her 
fingers. "It's nothing, Dorothy. Get Mickey up. We have to 
move out." 
"Aaha?" Mickey asked as he rubbed sleep from his 
eyes. 
Rex stretched, then sat and scratched himself. Suddenly 
his head came up and with it came the fur on his 
spine. A low growl rumbled from his throat, then he looked 
over at Rajani and stood. From the dog she got a sense of 
duty tinged with growing fear as she tossed some sticks 
on the coals. Rex looked back out into the shadows 
surrounding the campsite and barked once. 
The yipped howls of a dozen canine throats answered 
him. Mickey reached out to Rex, but the dog moved 
beyond his grasp to position himself between the boy and 


the threat. Likewise, Rajani moved forward while Dorothy 
picked up a big stick. Alone, Mickey clutched his blanket 
and huddled down to make himself a small target. 
He's small physically, but his fear is immense! Sheer 
terror radiated out of the boy, and Rajani renewed the 
defenses she had erected earlier. She structured them to 
let low levels of emotion through, but to cut her off in case 
of a huge emotional outburst. I cannot afford to be blinded. 
"Hush, Mickey." Dorothy grasped the knotted pine 
branch in both hands. "They're coming, Rajani." 
Behind her the kindling caught and the fire flared to life. 
Rajani saw it reflected in a galaxy of eyes barely three feet 
off the ground. As she watched, however, one set drifted 
up and forward. A lupine head skylined itself and, as the 
creature moved in toward the circle of light, Rajani saw 
him complete the transformation from a wolf to a ruddy-
furred wolfman. 
"Grrrreeeeetings," the creature growled seductively, 
infusing the word with insincerity. He eyed Rajani up and 
down, then Dorothy. Only on Mickey did his gaze linger, 
and Rajani felt pleasure rippling from the wolfman so 
strongly that it almost brought a smile to her face. 
Forcing his emotions aside, Rajani snarled. "Leave 
here. There is nothing here for you." 
"Perhaps you are not for me, nor she, but he is a tender 
and tasty little morsel." The wolfman squatted down and 
barked sharply at Mickey, making the boy jump. "Oh, 
yes!" 
Mickey's wave of fear crested over Rajani, then she felt 
an equally sharp jolt of pleasure from the wolfman. With 
a bitter, coppery taste in her mouth, she realized the 
wolfman hungered for Mickey's terror, lusted after it as 
Andy had lusted after her. 
"If you dare touch him...," she began. Beyond him, 
backing him, a dozen dogs and coyotes slunk forward. 
One, a huge Alsatian, came forward more boldly and 
bared his fangs at Rex. The Alsatian started to growl and 
set itself to lunge, but the wolfman turned and snarled at 
the Alsatian, forcing it to back off. 
Mickey's fear almost overrode the exchange between 
wolfman and Alsatian. In it, Rajani sensed the Alsatian's 
resentment at the wolfman's domination of what had 
been his pack. In return, the wolfman radiated invincibility 
and contempt for the Alsatian. The pack shifted uneasily, 
as if to deny they ever objected to the wolfman's leadership, 
and the Alsatian backed away from the emotional 
fury projected by the wolfman. 
The wolfman turned and studied Rajani. He sniffed the 
air, but the slight breeze curled the smoke's fire around her 
like a cloak. He sneezed once, then nodded. "You are 
most interesting prey, but it is not you that I want." He 


pointed at Mickey with a clawed finger, then gestured with 
it to command the boy forward. 
Mickey buried his head in the blanket, and Rajani felt 
his terror rip through her like a chain saw. The wolfman's 
eyes glazed over almost orgasmically, and he howled in 
delight. Discipline wavered among his pack, then he 
snarled and the various curs backed away. The Alsatian 
moved the least and turned to face the wolfman directly. 
His control over them is not complete. Dropping to one 
knee, she reached back with her right hand and let the 
rattler slither forward into it. The wolfman's eyes followed 
the snake's movement, then he looked up and she made 
eye contact. I will not let you have the boy. 
I give you no choice, alien. 

pointed at Mickey with a clawed finger, then gestured with 
it to command the boy forward. 
Mickey buried his head in the blanket, and Rajani felt 
his terror rip through her like a chain saw. The wolfman's 
eyes glazed over almost orgasmically, and he howled in 
delight. Discipline wavered among his pack, then he 
snarled and the various curs backed away. The Alsatian 
moved the least and turned to face the wolfman directly. 
His control over them is not complete. Dropping to one 
knee, she reached back with her right hand and let the 
rattler slither forward into it. The wolfman's eyes followed 
the snake's movement, then he looked up and she made 
eye contact. I will not let you have the boy. 
I give you no choice, alien. 


The pack instantly sensed his terror and attacked. 

The pack instantly sensed his terror and attacked. 

pit bull sank its teeth into the wolfman's calf while a 

Doberman pinscher dove at his throat and a terrier 

worried his left ankle. The wolfman tried to bat the 

Doberman aside, but a rottweiler took a bite out of his left 

hamstring, and he went down. Before he could yell, the 

snarling canine mass buried him. 

The Alsatian had hung back, but started forward when 

the wolfman lost his footing. But before he could join the 

melee, Rex hit him from the flank and locked his white 

teeth on the Alsatian's throat They rolled over and over 

out into the shadows to be quickly eclipsed by the bloody 

and frenzied pack. 

"Move, fast!" Rajani pointed back away from the yellow 

eyes and reddened teeth of the roiling dogfight. 

"Eh!" shouted Mickey as he stood. 

"Rex will find us, Mickey. Move!" Dorothy grabbed 

Mickey's hand and started sprinting on through the thin 

woods. 

Rajani took one look back at the pack, then followed 

the children. Her right leg throbbed with pain, but seemed 

to be functional. Tracking the kids more by emotion than 

sight or sound, she caught up with them quickly and led 

the way down a steep hill. Using her night vision to pick 

out deer trails, she got them safely away from their old 

campsite. 

Dorothy leaned heavily on a tree. "Wait, gotta catch my 

breath." She gulped down air. That was a luper, wasn't 

it?" 

Rajani shook her head. "A luper?" 

"A werewolf, a loup-garou." Dorothy bent over and 

breathed in through her nose. "My dad's girlfriend was 

Cajun. She told us stories." 

"Ah oaries." 

"Yes, Mickey, bad stories." Dorothy looked up at her. 

"That was one, wasn't it?" 

"I don't know." Werewolves? There are no such things, 

or were none when I went into stasis. Were my parents 

wrong? Was Dr. Chandra mistaken? Have things changed 

so much in such little time? 

Rajani turned and peered back along their backtrail. 
She saw movement through the brush, then heard something. 
Mickey smiled and pointed. "Eheze!" 
"C'mere, Rex!" Dorothy shouted. 
Mickey clapped his hands and Rajani smiled. She 
watched the dog descend the hill. "Aside from the limp, 
Rex looks okay." 
She reached out with her mind to welcome Rex, but she 
sensed nothing from him. As the canine approached 
them, the dog's form shifted and bloated, it thickened and 



widened, growing taller as it reared up on its hind legs. 
Torn and bleeding, dragging its left leg behind it, the 
creature they had taken to be Rex transformed itself into 
the luper they had left behind. 
"Almost worked...your trick. I killed them." He clutched 
his right hand to his stomach, and Rajani saw at least two 
of his fingers had been gnawed off. "Even your Rex." He 
swallowed hard and looked at her. "Share the boy with 
me. Please." 
"No. Go away." 
The luper grimaced painfully. "I asked. Now I demand. 
I need him. Give him to me." 
"No!" Rajani slowly crouched and pushed Mickey 
behind her. I will not surrender him to you. 
You cannot stand against me! The wolfman's lower 
jaw dropped open in a lupine grin. We should have 
dominion over these creatures. If I must destroy you first 
to get it, I will. 
Your bark does not frighten me. 
Then perhaps my bite will! 


The wolfman looked at her, and again they made eye 
contact. Rajani began to push more fear out at him, but 
hot, raw, bestial emotions slammed back down the link. 
Gore-drenched tableaux raped her mind as she saw the 
wolfman lead his pack through massacres in outlying 
towns. Transferred to her was the obscene delight he took 
in slaking his thirst with bright, arterial blood. The victim's 
horror pulsed out stronger and stronger as his heart 
weakened and he knew he was dying, but feared he would 
not die fast enough. 
Rajani snapped her head to the left and felt her hair veil 
half her face. She brought her defenses up, but they 
merely filtered the wolfman's blood-spattered fantasies. 
Instead of seeing them in any organized fashion, things 
became a blended mixture of corpses bobbing in bloody 
pools, with terror rising from them like scarlet steam. 
Rajani felt the wolfman probing her mind, looking for 
her fears so they could be woven into his sick fantasies, 
but she deflected him. She tried to turn his thoughts back 
on him, but his physical weakness only seemed to 
strengthen him mentally. Sensing her resistance, he 
poured the power on and a blood-red world congealed 
around her. She felt locked in as the blood dried to a deep 
maroon, then became clear so she could watch the 
wolfman stalk toward Mickey. 
You are done. The wolfman, to her eyes, blazed with 
an unholy red light. I am Invincible! 
Then, suddenly, the wolfman jerked up to his full 
height. Rajani saw something waver in and out of focus as 
she fought to see empathically. Concentrate. Focus. She 
locked her jaw and fed despair into anger and hope. What 



is happening? 

is happening? 

I love it when they make themselves into such wonderful 
targets. Rajani felt the rictus holding her fade as a 
shadow hand touched her on the shoulder. Make the 
child safe. 

The world shifted abruptly, and Rajani found herself 
staring at the crumpled wolfman. Mickey looked at it, then 
her, and then waved his hand. 
"Yes, Mickey, it went bye-bye." Dorothy hugged her 
little brother, then stared at Rajani. "What happened? He 
stared at you and you stopped moving. Then he clutches 
his stomach and starts bleeding from the mouth and nose. 
What happened?" 
"Kishal." Mickey pointed at the body. "Kishal." 
"Crystal, Mickey?" Dorothy looked very confused. 
"What is he talking about?" 
Rajani shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he saw 
something. I think the beast had some internal injuries 
from the fight with his pack. Running after us did him in. 
He was dead, but didn't even notice it." As she saw 
Dorothy's face hardening, she added quickly, "I've seen 
that sort of thing happen in Eclipse." 
Dorothy shook her head slightly, then relented. "Maybe, 
but I don't know." 
"It doesn't matter, Dorothy. We'll be safe for the rest of 
tonight. Then, tomorrow or the next day, we can be in 
Flagstaff and reunite you with your father." Then you'll be 
safe, and I can go to Phoenix and find this Coyote. 


Sweat matting the dark hair on his chest, Coyote 
finished his hundredth sit-up and smiled as Mong appeared 
in the doorway of his cell. He uncrossed his hands 
from his chest and levered himself to his feet. Drawing his 
heels together, he bowed to the red-robed monk. "Good 
morning, Lama Mong." 
Mong studied him for a moment, and Coyote found the 
expression on the elderly man's face unfathomable. The 
monk nodded, then smiled. "I am pleased to see you have 
recovered from travel lethargy. You have slept much and 
deeply since you arrived here." 
Coyote used a bedsheet to wipe the sweat from his 
face. "I must confess, I think it was more than just jet lag. 


The last month has been rather stressful for me. I did not 
realize it until I lay down to sleep that first night, but there 
had been a background level of pressure on me throughout 
that time. It felt as though I was on a leash and 
constantly struggling against it. Here I feel none of that, 
and the exhaustion caught up with me." 
The monk pointed to the black silk robe that matched 
the pants Coyote already had pulled on. "Finish dressing, 
and I will lead you on a tour here. There is much for you 
to learn." 
The silk felt cold at first, but it warmed quickly as he 
belted it in place with a sash. "How long will it take you to 
teach me what I need to know?" 
Mong shrugged as he led the way into a dimly lit, narrow 
corridor. "I do not know. The Dark Lords do not inform us 
of their training techniques or curriculum." 
Coyote nodded bitterly. "And I have no knowledge of 
it." 
"Conscious knowledge, you mean," Mong mused. "We 
shall see what skills you possess and what you must 
learn." 
As the monk guided him through the lamasery, its 
antiquity impressed him. Of his life he knew little beyond 
what he had discovered in the past month. While Jytte 
Ravel had made available to him the files about his early 
life, much of the things he learned from them were rumors 
and probably exaggerated beyond reality anyway. In 
contrast, the building had a strength and history that he 
hungered for. 
He let his fingertips brush along the rough-hewn wall, 
reveling in the gritty reality of the stones. This place will 
be a cocoon for me. Remembering how Fiddleback had 
called him a pet and treated him like something subhuman 
stoked his desire to destroy his former master. Here 
I will complete my chrysalis. I will become my own 
master. I will turn what you gave me into what will 
destroy you. 

The last month has been rather stressful for me. I did not 
realize it until I lay down to sleep that first night, but there 
had been a background level of pressure on me throughout 
that time. It felt as though I was on a leash and 
constantly struggling against it. Here I feel none of that, 
and the exhaustion caught up with me." 
The monk pointed to the black silk robe that matched 
the pants Coyote already had pulled on. "Finish dressing, 
and I will lead you on a tour here. There is much for you 
to learn." 
The silk felt cold at first, but it warmed quickly as he 
belted it in place with a sash. "How long will it take you to 
teach me what I need to know?" 
Mong shrugged as he led the way into a dimly lit, narrow 
corridor. "I do not know. The Dark Lords do not inform us 
of their training techniques or curriculum." 
Coyote nodded bitterly. "And I have no knowledge of 
it." 
"Conscious knowledge, you mean," Mong mused. "We 
shall see what skills you possess and what you must 
learn." 
As the monk guided him through the lamasery, its 
antiquity impressed him. Of his life he knew little beyond 
what he had discovered in the past month. While Jytte 
Ravel had made available to him the files about his early 
life, much of the things he learned from them were rumors 
and probably exaggerated beyond reality anyway. In 
contrast, the building had a strength and history that he 
hungered for. 
He let his fingertips brush along the rough-hewn wall, 
reveling in the gritty reality of the stones. This place will 
be a cocoon for me. Remembering how Fiddleback had 
called him a pet and treated him like something subhuman 
stoked his desire to destroy his former master. Here 
I will complete my chrysalis. I will become my own 
master. I will turn what you gave me into what will 
destroy you. 


were doing was play, but a select few looked serene and 
peaceful even as they fought against shadows. 
Mong descended the long staircase behind Coyote. 
"Awareness of self and the fragility of the physical body 
are important in our studies. All too often, the concept of 
self one has involves thought or a list of attributes. Only 
through a conscious integration of mind and body, to the 
point where the union becomes automatic and unconscious, 
is it possible to begin down the path of enlightenment." 
The tall man nodded and pointed to a wall upon which 
hung a full array of weapons. "And knowledge of these 
reinforces knowledge of life's fragility?" 
That, and it confirms more about mankind." Mong 
gestured broadly, taking in all the weapons at once. 
"Consider, if you will, that man's earliest tools were rocks 
and sticks. Every weapon, every tool is, in effect, descended 
from those very humble beginnings. Things 
become vastly more complex as man refines his tools 
over and over again. Man is a toolmaker, and acknowledgment 
of that fact is crucial to understanding mankind." 
Coyote pulled a short weapon from the wall with his left 
hand. The blade ran perpendicular to the haft as with an 
ax, but was more slender as befitting a dagger with a 
single interior edge. From the point where the blade had 
been bolted to the shaft, a weighted length of metal chain 
hung down. With his right hand he grasped the chain 
about a foot from the weight and whirled it around. 
"Kusari-gama, Japanese in origin, favored by ninja. 
Yadama Shinryukan dispatched many a samurai with 
one of these before Araki Mataemon tricked him into 
fighting in a bamboo grove." 
"And what is the sickle part but a stick, and the weight 
but a rock?" 
Coyote acknowledged the monk's comment with a 
nod, then thought for a moment. "Your point is well made, 
but are you not stretching it to suggest all tools, all 
machines, come from sticks and stones? What of radios 
and cars?" 
The monk smiled. "Modern devices do make defending 
my thesis more difficult. Bear in mind that mankind 
has always struggled against nature and the circumstances 
that would kill him. Sticks and stones allowed him 
to translate superior mental power into superior physical 
power. By bashing two sticks together, for example, he 
could alert other hunters in his band to potential prey. In 
doing this he would effectively double or triple his own 
strength by augmenting it with others, it may be stretching 
things to suggest a radio is merely two sticks that can be 
heard over vast distances, but the core of the reality is the 


same." 
"That reality being that man is a toolmaker and through 
his tools has learned to survive." Coyote increased the 
speed of the spinning weight, then let the chain play out 
through his fingers. The diamond-shaped steel weight 
arced out and struck a spark from one of the pillars, then 
Coyote pitched the weight's rotational plane sharply 
upward. The weight reached the peak of the arc, then 
looped back down and he caught it in his right hand. 
"I've used this before." 
"Apparently." The monk pointed to other weapons on 
the wall. "What of the others, Kyi-can?" 
"All of them?" He hung the kusari-gama back in its 
place on the wall. "Spears, assagai, yari, naginata, a 
reproduction of a Roman pilum, an Inuit walrus spear and 
even a boar spear. The swords: claymore, rapier, daito, 
katena, wakizashi, shamsheer, scimitar, broadsword 
and obsidian-edged Aztec war club." 
As he looked at each weapon, he knew how it would 
feel in his hands. He knew its weight and its limitations. He 
knew what sort of damage it would do, how best to employ 
it in attacks and how to defend against it. If I was 
Fiddleback's pet, then he was training me to be a fighting 
pet. Knowledge of these things is more than I would need 
to know to be an assassin. 

same." 
"That reality being that man is a toolmaker and through 
his tools has learned to survive." Coyote increased the 
speed of the spinning weight, then let the chain play out 
through his fingers. The diamond-shaped steel weight 
arced out and struck a spark from one of the pillars, then 
Coyote pitched the weight's rotational plane sharply 
upward. The weight reached the peak of the arc, then 
looped back down and he caught it in his right hand. 
"I've used this before." 
"Apparently." The monk pointed to other weapons on 
the wall. "What of the others, Kyi-can?" 
"All of them?" He hung the kusari-gama back in its 
place on the wall. "Spears, assagai, yari, naginata, a 
reproduction of a Roman pilum, an Inuit walrus spear and 
even a boar spear. The swords: claymore, rapier, daito, 
katena, wakizashi, shamsheer, scimitar, broadsword 
and obsidian-edged Aztec war club." 
As he looked at each weapon, he knew how it would 
feel in his hands. He knew its weight and its limitations. He 
knew what sort of damage it would do, how best to employ 
it in attacks and how to defend against it. If I was 
Fiddleback's pet, then he was training me to be a fighting 
pet. Knowledge of these things is more than I would need 
to know to be an assassin. 


"Camouflage, Kyi-can." Mong stepped out into the 
lamasery courtyard to the right of the long stairway. 
"Amid so many people claiming truth where there was 
clearly falsehood, no one would listen to those who had 
been kidnapped. There were women who were taken and 
held in thrall to carry a child to term. There were men who 
were targeted, who had sperm samples taken from them, 
but were unable to tell their tales to anyone who would 
believe them." 
"You know who my parents were?" 
The monk shook his head as he walked around and 
mounted the steps. "I do not, though you find it obvious 
that your parents were excellent physical specimens, with 
superior intellects and imaginations. Athletic, both of 
them, to be sure. Perhaps one was a chess champion or 
a wizard at computer programming or destined for a 
Nobel in physics. The other, I should think, would have 
had a creative sideindulging in painting or poetry." 
Taking the steps two at a time, Coyote caught up with 
Mong. The athletics connection is logical. I assume the 
creativity is because that is a link into empathy?" 
"Very good." Mong pressed his hand along the flank of 
the stone lion balustrade as he worked his way up the 
stairs. "Your training would have maximized your potential 
in physical actions, and your creativity would have 
been indulged in other ways. No doubt your master would 
have wanted you to learn what we will teach you, but you 
would have received the training as a gift from him, not 
something you earn so that it belongs to you." 
"So I would define myself in relationship to him." Pet 
and master. 

"Camouflage, Kyi-can." Mong stepped out into the 
lamasery courtyard to the right of the long stairway. 
"Amid so many people claiming truth where there was 
clearly falsehood, no one would listen to those who had 
been kidnapped. There were women who were taken and 
held in thrall to carry a child to term. There were men who 
were targeted, who had sperm samples taken from them, 
but were unable to tell their tales to anyone who would 
believe them." 
"You know who my parents were?" 
The monk shook his head as he walked around and 
mounted the steps. "I do not, though you find it obvious 
that your parents were excellent physical specimens, with 
superior intellects and imaginations. Athletic, both of 
them, to be sure. Perhaps one was a chess champion or 
a wizard at computer programming or destined for a 
Nobel in physics. The other, I should think, would have 
had a creative sideindulging in painting or poetry." 
Taking the steps two at a time, Coyote caught up with 
Mong. The athletics connection is logical. I assume the 
creativity is because that is a link into empathy?" 
"Very good." Mong pressed his hand along the flank of 
the stone lion balustrade as he worked his way up the 
stairs. "Your training would have maximized your potential 
in physical actions, and your creativity would have 
been indulged in other ways. No doubt your master would 
have wanted you to learn what we will teach you, but you 
would have received the training as a gift from him, not 
something you earn so that it belongs to you." 
"So I would define myself in relationship to him." Pet 
and master. 


"In bringing me here, Crowley said you would instruct 
me in Sunyata and Oumah. He noted my instruction 
would be in that order, which is the reverse in which you 
normally provide instruction." Coyote folded his arms 
across his chest. "Having seen what Crowley can dofor 
example, the manner in which he left hereI know this 
ability to slip between worlds is powerful. I would gather, 
however, given how you train people here normally, 
learning this ability is not the focus of your teaching." 
"It is a way station." Mong turned to face out into the 
lamasery courtyard. "The people who come here wish to 
become enlightened. They wish to understand how all 
reality is one. They are, if you will, interested in the tree as 
a whole. The ability to leap from leaf to leaf is a minor 
sideline." 
"Yet one that you find very useful." 
Mong stared at him. "Useful?" 
"I should have said 'vital.'" Coyote gave the monk a 
tightly controlled smile. "You have a community here of 
over 500 individuals, yet you have no fields under cultivation. 
On the trip up here I saw little evidence of the sort 
of caravan you would need to keep this place supplied. I 
also noticed, when I woke up yesterday to eat what a 
rapjung brought to me, that the fruit that looked like an 
orange was segmented differently than oranges I've had 
before." 
Mong shrugged. "You and Mi-ma-yin notice the segmentation 
problem. Most of our monks just noticed they 
do not have 'Sunkist' stamped on them." 
"So, you send getsuls and gelongs out to forage 
amongst the various realities?" 
"Since all reality is one, accepting nourishment from 
another dimension is a blessing." The monk folded his 
arms into the sleeves of his robe. "I think there is one more 
thing you should see before we begin your formal lessons. 
Follow me, please." 
Mong headed off on the long circuit around the outside 
of the Lhakang. Off to his right, Coyote saw the northern 
gate in the lamasery wall. Aside from its having carved 
stone doors that could not possibly ever move, it looked 
exactly like the western gate through which he had 
entered Kanggenpo. The 27 monks seated in the prayer 
alcoves surrounding it were deep in their meditations. 
Coyote came around to the rear of the Lhakang a step 
behind Mong. He stopped short as the monk pointed to it. 
"You entered through the west and will depart through the 
east." 
The gate appeared similar to the others in all its 
elements, but they had been rearranged and changed to 
make that gate seem threatening. It is almost malignant 
and hateful. A stone causeway connected it to the 


Lhakang level of the main temple, placing it 40 feet above 
the courtyard level served by the other three gates. As 
with the others, 27 monks guarded it, but they were armed 
with weapons and wore armor. The two sets of nine in the 
vertical alcoves on either flank carried swords, spears and 
bows and arrows, with their armor of traditional Tibetan 
design. The monks in the horizontal row capping the gate 
had old AKM and G3 assault rifles slung over their 
shoulders and two had LAW rockets leaning against the 
alcove walls. 
The gateway they surrounded led directly into the 
mountainside, and their alcoves had been carved into the 
mountain's hide. Seeing no doors, Coyote thought the 
gateway was just the entrance to a huge, dark cavern. 
Then he caught sight of what had to be the doors, but he 
was uncertain because they seemed insubstantial and 
ethereal. Intricately worked with arcane designs, they 
slowly solidified into a ghostly gray plasm, then began to 
fade again before they reached opacity. 
Opposite the gateway, painted tall and menacing on 
the rear of the Lhakang, a black-skinned giant with four 
arms snarled at the gateway. Bright white tusks thrust out 
and up from his lower jaw, and his eyes looked filled with 
blood. His upper two hands held lightning bolts, the lower 
left a sword and the lower right a mace. Around his neck 
hung a string of skulls, and Coyote noticed that a number 
of them were not of terrestrial origin. 
Coyote looked from the gateway to the picture and 
back. "I have the feeling I'm not intended to understand 
this." 
Mong nodded solemnly. "The painting is of our Yidam. 
He is called Vajrabhairava, and he protects us from all 
harmful creatures. The monks warding our gates chant 
his name again and again and again to keep us safe." 
He nodded toward the east and the heart of the 
mountain. "The gate is the only way you will leave here. 
If you have learned enough that you can travel through it 
to the outside world, you will have command of the skills 
you have come here to learn." 
"And if I don't?" 
Mong's expression darkened. "Pray you do. Being 
reborn into this world is not something I would wish on 
even the most malignant Dark Lord." 

Lhakang level of the main temple, placing it 40 feet above 
the courtyard level served by the other three gates. As 
with the others, 27 monks guarded it, but they were armed 
with weapons and wore armor. The two sets of nine in the 
vertical alcoves on either flank carried swords, spears and 
bows and arrows, with their armor of traditional Tibetan 
design. The monks in the horizontal row capping the gate 
had old AKM and G3 assault rifles slung over their 
shoulders and two had LAW rockets leaning against the 
alcove walls. 
The gateway they surrounded led directly into the 
mountainside, and their alcoves had been carved into the 
mountain's hide. Seeing no doors, Coyote thought the 
gateway was just the entrance to a huge, dark cavern. 
Then he caught sight of what had to be the doors, but he 
was uncertain because they seemed insubstantial and 
ethereal. Intricately worked with arcane designs, they 
slowly solidified into a ghostly gray plasm, then began to 
fade again before they reached opacity. 
Opposite the gateway, painted tall and menacing on 
the rear of the Lhakang, a black-skinned giant with four 
arms snarled at the gateway. Bright white tusks thrust out 
and up from his lower jaw, and his eyes looked filled with 
blood. His upper two hands held lightning bolts, the lower 
left a sword and the lower right a mace. Around his neck 
hung a string of skulls, and Coyote noticed that a number 
of them were not of terrestrial origin. 
Coyote looked from the gateway to the picture and 
back. "I have the feeling I'm not intended to understand 
this." 
Mong nodded solemnly. "The painting is of our Yidam. 
He is called Vajrabhairava, and he protects us from all 
harmful creatures. The monks warding our gates chant 
his name again and again and again to keep us safe." 
He nodded toward the east and the heart of the 
mountain. "The gate is the only way you will leave here. 
If you have learned enough that you can travel through it 
to the outside world, you will have command of the skills 
you have come here to learn." 
"And if I don't?" 
Mong's expression darkened. "Pray you do. Being 
reborn into this world is not something I would wish on 
even the most malignant Dark Lord." 
Putter resting on his shoulder, Sinclair MacNeal waited 
for the Proteus green to reshape itself into a clone of the 
17th hole at the Tournament of Players Club in Scottsdale. 
The machinery beneath the AstroTurf carpet pulled the 


left edge in until it achieved a perfect kidney shape. 
Pistons rose and fell to provide the rolling terrain and the 
gentle hump in the middle of the green. At the farthest 
possible point of the green, a dark hole opened up and a 
man placed a pin and flag in it. 
Takeshi Takagi tugged at the wrist of his golfing glove. 
"I selected this last hole in honor of your visit, Sinclair." 
"I am honored, oyabun." Sinclair squatted down as his 
'caddy' moved his ball from the fairway simulator and 
spotted it on the green at the end of the kidney farthest 
from the pin. You old fox, you did this because you know 
I blew this hole in the Build-more Pro-Am three months 
ago. Had there been no hump through the middle of the 
kidney, he would have rolled his putt up and around the 
lip and just tried to get it near the cup. He'd par the hole, 
but that would leave him one stroke ahead of Takeshi and 
Kazuo. Unfortunately, he knew from recent and painful 
experience, hitting the ball hard enough to get it over the 
hump would also roll it right off the green. 
The other two caddiesalso Yakuza soldiers who 
looked uneasy in short-sleeved jumpsuits and carrying 
huge golf bagsplaced the other balls on the green. 
Kazuo had not tried to play the hole safe and was 
rewarded with a five-foot putt on a very slight down slope. 
Takeshi, the slender, white-haired oyabun of the Yamaguchi-
gumi, ended up 15 feet away from the hole, on 
Sin's side of the hump, but all he had to do was putt across 
it and run parallel to it right to the hole. 
Kazuo grinned like a cat lapping up cream. "You are 
away, Sin." 
Sin closed his eyes for a half-second. Here, in the 
basement of the Takagi mansion, he was playing golf on 
a series of simulators with the two most powerful men in 
the Japanese underworld. The oyabun had selected an 
18-hole course made up of some of the most difficult 
holes available in the world. They started on the tee 
simulator and had a computer analyze their shots. It then 
decided where they would be placed on the fairway 
simulator and, from that, where they would end up on the 
green. 
The simulators themselves, as well as the whole game 
room, were a masterpiece of environmental duplication. 
AstroTurf fibers grew and shrank to replicate conditions 
from roughs to the best of greens. Terrain features filled 
themselves in and, while no part of the simulators flooded 
to produce water hazards, a spaghettilike overgrowth of 
carpet made for excellent sand traps. Projected video of 
the area surrounding the individual holes and a subtle 
soundtrack made it possible for Sinclair to believe he was 
actually playing the holes depicted. 
Though it was a game of a game, the pressure felt as 


great to him as it did during the Build-more tournament. 
He recognized, however, that in many ways, it should 
have seemed far more heavy. These men could kill me, 
and no one would ever know. In Phoenix all I did was 
disgrace myself in front of a television audience of millions. 
Same position, same shot I played it safe then and 
lost. Time to go for broke. 
Sin stood and extended his putter to his caddy. "Kusabi." 
The man stared at him blankly, then looked at the 
oyabun. 
"Give him his wedge, as he has asked." Takeshi smiled. 
"The board would have your membership for using a sand 
wedge on a green." 
"But you are more forgiving?" 
"It depends upon the results of your gamble." 
Doesn't it always? Sin shifted his stance and carefully 
gripped the club. Left index finger linked through right 
little finger and right hand covered left thumb. His ball 
stood just off the toe of his left shoe. Easy...easy... 
concentrate. Smooth swing, gentle touch. He brought the 
club back to waist height and swung down through the 
ball. 
The sand wedge's flatly pitched head popped the ball 
up like an undercut cue ball on a billiards table. It shot from 
point to point on the kidney like a spaceplane going 
suborbital. It reached its apex above the hump, then fell 
to the ground again with a barely audible thump. Rolling 
toward the hole, it looked on target, but swung around the 
lip of the cup and ended up a foot downhill from its goal. 
"Well played, Sinclair." The oyabun stepped up to his 
own putt and clearly found standing on the side of the 
hump a bit awkward. He shifted his stance, and his caddy 
exchanged one putter for another. Lining up for a left-
handed putt, the oyabun kept his club steady, watched 
the ball and, with a gentle click, sent it at the cup. 
"Left-handed. I'm impressed." 
The ball rolled up the hump and looked as if it might 
stall, but the oyabun knew exactly what he was doing. He 
gave the ball enough power to make it over the top, then 
it picked up speed rolling down the other side. It hit a small 
bump that popped it back out on to the wider part of the 
green, then followed the path Kazuo's ball would have to 
use right on into the cup. 
Sinclair applauded appreciatively. "With your offhand. 
You should be on the tour. This puts you one down for this 
hole." 
"And makes us even, if you make your putt." 
Sinclair nodded silently as Kazuo stepped onto the 
green. The Yakuza addressed the ball confidently and hit 
it toward the hole. His putt rolled true, but slowed and 
stopped right on the edge of the cup. He waited a full 10 


seconds for it to drop, then stepped forward and poked it 
into the hole. "Par." 
Sin walked over to where his ball waited and accepted 
his putter from his caddy. Sink this, and I win. Miss, and 
the oyabun wins. Sin looked up and watched the oyabun 
watch him. Sin settled himself over the ball, lined up the 
shot and took one practice stroke with his putter. One foot. 
Easy. 

seconds for it to drop, then stepped forward and poked it 
into the hole. "Par." 
Sin walked over to where his ball waited and accepted 
his putter from his caddy. Sink this, and I win. Miss, and 
the oyabun wins. Sin looked up and watched the oyabun 
watch him. Sin settled himself over the ball, lined up the 
shot and took one practice stroke with his putter. One foot. 
Easy. 

Take away their little fingers, and I'm not surprised. 
"Thank you, Takeshi-sama. Unlike your people, my job is 
not so demanding that I cannot get sufficient practice on 
my game." Sin sat and immediately felt as if his chair was 
a giant marshmallow trying to eat him. 
Kazuo sank into the chair across from his. "And now, 
with your new job, you should have even more time, eh?" 
That depends, my friend, on a number of things." 
Sin accepted a glass of amber liquid from the silver tray 
carried by a butler. The two Yakuza likewise took glasses 
from the tray, then the oyabun leaned forward on the edge 
of the couch. He sipped the drink, then nodded a salute 
to Sin. "Thank you for this scotch. It is excellent." 
"Do itashimashite, Takeshi-sama." 
The oyabun held the crystal glass cupped in his hands 
and rested his elbows on his knees. "My nephew has told 
me that you are no longer with your father's firm. He also 
said you believed that success in your current job depended 
upon receiving our help. I would have met with 
you sooner except for some business in Hong Kong, but 
you should not take my tardiness in seeing you as a 
rejection of your friendship." 
"I did not, oyabun. I understand very well the difficulties 
of the tasks thrust upon you." Sin drank some of the 
scotch and let himself relax into the chair. "Your invitation 
to play here, in your home, was a very pleasant surprise." 
"It was the least I could do to repay your kindness for 


hosting Kazuo on his visits to Phoenix, and to applaud 
your courage in returning to our island again." The 
oyabun's dark eyes glittered. "Your new employer must 
be very powerful indeed." 
Sin sensed a mixture of curiosity and confidence in the 
oyabun's comment. Fishing for information, or confirma


hosting Kazuo on his visits to Phoenix, and to applaud 
your courage in returning to our island again." The 
oyabun's dark eyes glittered. "Your new employer must 
be very powerful indeed." 
Sin sensed a mixture of curiosity and confidence in the 
oyabun's comment. Fishing for information, or confirma



be reconstructed. On the other hand, the chances are 
excellent that the laundry women would be able to smell 
cordite on the clothes used in the shooting exercise. A 
delivery person might never see what is in the packages 
he drops off, but he would notice if the firm only worked 
with certain companies or, more significantly, seemed to 
change suppliers on an almost random basis." 
The oyabun ran a hand over his smooth chin. "You 
want information about a firm that is so ordinary that it 
seems unremarkable, and you want us to gather this in a 
passive manner." He shook his head. "You want us to find 
the firms about which no one is talking, in essence." 
"You have it precisely, which is why I need help." Sin 
sighed heavily. "There are some things you can look for. 
This place will have a number of nonnatives as long-term 
clients or residents. One of those residents vanished six 
weeks or more ago and did not return as anticipated. Guns 
of every variety are available here, and there is a prodigious 
amount of ammo used. Gun drills will also take 
place in odd ways, so rumors of an accidental shooting 
are possible. Weapons and equipment will have to be 
smuggled in and out without notice, so access to a private 
airfield or shipping could be a factor. It will require a lot of 
power, so independent- or high-power demands are 
likely. It will have communications needs that suggest its 
own satellite facility." 
Uncle and nephew exchanged a glance that Sin knew 
was significant, but he could not decipher it. "What?" 
Kazuo shrugged uneasily, "There is one place where all 
the things you mention could be placed, and it would go 
unnoticed. Unfortunately, that is also the one place in all 
of Tokyo where our influence is the weakest: Kimpunshima." 
"The reservation? I hadn't thought about that." Golddust 
Island.. Makes sense for all the wrong reasons. "This could 
make my job very easy or absolutely impossible." 
Sin knew that, because of the clash of cultures in the 
1980s and 1990s, tension had risen between the Japanese 
and foreigners. A diet full of nationalists forced a 
number of laws that severely restricted the accepted 
habitation zones for resident aliens in Japan. The laws 
served to protect the contamination and dissolution of the 
Japanese culture, as well as isolating the foreigners so 
they could only really deal with those the Japanese 
wished to have represent them. 
The largest of the reservations was Kimpunshima. Built 
as a floating island in Tokyo harbor, a typhoon had 
devastated it in the mid-'90s. It had been rebuilt and 
improved and enlarged until some people began to think 
of it as the fifth island in the Japanese chain. Various parts 
of it had been segregated so the streets and neighborhood 


distribution amounted to an economic map of the world, 
with the whole of Japan right in scale with Kimpunshima. 
Sin had enjoyed living there for his first two years in 
Japan, but mainly because he could leave the American 
sector and find himself in France or Italy or Mexico by 
taking a tram from one tower to another. Soon, however, 
he realized that he could not successfully maintain corporate 
security in Japan while living apart from the Japanese. 
With the Yamaguchi-gumi's covert help, he obtained 
one of the rare Imperial Invitations to live wherever 
he wanted. 
"If you can check to make certain there are no suitable 
sites outside Kimpunshima, I will try to cover it." 
Takeshi Takagi nodded. "We will do this, Sinclair. We 
will make our search methodical and precise." The 
oyabun downed the last of his scotch. "And I think, my 
friend, that we will need to consult each other at least 
weekly, on our investigations. To aid you, I even volunteer 
use of my Simcenter for these meetings." 
As Sinclair rode the private elevator up to his suite, he 
chuckled again at the way the oyabun had trapped him 
into golfing each week. He will beat me, there is no doubt 
about it. He will select a course so difficult that both of us 
will be forced to play our best. It will be interesting. 

distribution amounted to an economic map of the world, 
with the whole of Japan right in scale with Kimpunshima. 
Sin had enjoyed living there for his first two years in 
Japan, but mainly because he could leave the American 
sector and find himself in France or Italy or Mexico by 
taking a tram from one tower to another. Soon, however, 
he realized that he could not successfully maintain corporate 
security in Japan while living apart from the Japanese. 
With the Yamaguchi-gumi's covert help, he obtained 
one of the rare Imperial Invitations to live wherever 
he wanted. 
"If you can check to make certain there are no suitable 
sites outside Kimpunshima, I will try to cover it." 
Takeshi Takagi nodded. "We will do this, Sinclair. We 
will make our search methodical and precise." The 
oyabun downed the last of his scotch. "And I think, my 
friend, that we will need to consult each other at least 
weekly, on our investigations. To aid you, I even volunteer 
use of my Simcenter for these meetings." 
As Sinclair rode the private elevator up to his suite, he 
chuckled again at the way the oyabun had trapped him 
into golfing each week. He will beat me, there is no doubt 
about it. He will select a course so difficult that both of us 
will be forced to play our best. It will be interesting. 


ous person if he spoke out against their plans. The 
corporators also had to tolerate the Yakuza, because they 
were the staunchest nationalists of all and were more than 
capable of doing the things necessary to keep the lower 
classes in line. They had to accept contact and trade with 
the West while studiously avoiding its seduction. It was a 
walk across a tightrope with both ends burning and 
alligators waiting below. 

ous person if he spoke out against their plans. The 
corporators also had to tolerate the Yakuza, because they 
were the staunchest nationalists of all and were more than 
capable of doing the things necessary to keep the lower 
classes in line. They had to accept contact and trade with 
the West while studiously avoiding its seduction. It was a 
walk across a tightrope with both ends burning and 
alligators waiting below. 

Smiling, Sin hit the glowing red button on the hardwood 
cabinet to the right of the elevator. From its hidden recess, 
the message printer dropped two sheets of paper into a 
wire basket. Picking them up, he saw the first was from 
Erika inviting him to a party over on Kimpunshima in the 
American sector. The second was from Lilith Acres telling 
him her departure for Japan would be delayed a week. 
Sin deposited Lilith's message in the shredder slot and 
heard the gears grind it down into micro-fine confetti. He 
reread Erika's note and smiled. Good timing, Erika. I think 
I will accept your invitation. If Kimpunshima is tied into 
this whole thing, going in as your guest is probably a 
better cover than even Coyote could arrange. 


During the entire journey from Nevada to Flagstaff, 
Rajani had assumed that finding Dorothy and Mickey's 
father would be the easiest part of the operation. In the 
early 1980s, before she had entered stasis, she had come 
to know enough of the world to be able to plot out a course 
of action that would result in reuniting the children with 
their father. While she had been kept apart from the 
normal world outside Area 51, or a half-dozen other secret 
facilities where she was studied and educated, the outside 
world had come to her in rich color and stereo sound. 
At first she had been dead set against returning the two 
children to the man who had sold them, but the love for 
him that both kids showed puzzled her. Dorothy appeared 
very reluctant to discuss her father, and Rajani could tell 
being sold had hurt her deeply, but more because of the 
separation it caused than of the betrayal of the bond 
between them. Dorothy explained it had been a hard time 
because it was the anniversary of her mother's death, and 
her father's girlfriend was brutally murdered by a coworker 
who had pushed her into a pulping mill. 
Realizing she had no choice but to return them, Rajani 
thought she would simply direct the children to the police 
in Flagstaff. Despite stasis, she remembered seeing 
ample evidenceon televisionthat the police would 


gladly pack the children into one of their black-and-white 
vehicles and take them directly home. When she began 
to suggest this strategy, Dorothy nixed it instantly. "The 
state of Arizona is last in social spending, Rajani. In 
Rumanian orphanages, they tell the kids to clean their 
plates because there are starving children in Arizona who 
would love to have whatever they leave." 
For a moment or two the sharp resentment Rajani 
sensed from Dorothy seemed out of place, but she 
recalled plenty of cases she'd studied in which the 
disadvantaged were suspicious of authorities. So, despite 
what she knew of the police from "Cagney and Lacey" 
and "Barney Miller," she fell back to a second line of 
defense. Unfortunately, Magnum, PI and Jessica Fletcher 
did not have phone listings in Arizona, and the local paper 
had no ad in it for the Equalizer. 
Realizing she was on her own didn't depress her. She 
found her mission oddly revitalizing after the long trek 
south and east. If I cannot find their father, how can I 
expect to locate this Coyote or help defeat Fiddleback? 

gladly pack the children into one of their black-and-white 
vehicles and take them directly home. When she began 
to suggest this strategy, Dorothy nixed it instantly. "The 
state of Arizona is last in social spending, Rajani. In 
Rumanian orphanages, they tell the kids to clean their 
plates because there are starving children in Arizona who 
would love to have whatever they leave." 
For a moment or two the sharp resentment Rajani 
sensed from Dorothy seemed out of place, but she 
recalled plenty of cases she'd studied in which the 
disadvantaged were suspicious of authorities. So, despite 
what she knew of the police from "Cagney and Lacey" 
and "Barney Miller," she fell back to a second line of 
defense. Unfortunately, Magnum, PI and Jessica Fletcher 
did not have phone listings in Arizona, and the local paper 
had no ad in it for the Equalizer. 
Realizing she was on her own didn't depress her. She 
found her mission oddly revitalizing after the long trek 
south and east. If I cannot find their father, how can I 
expect to locate this Coyote or help defeat Fiddleback? 


tions of worthless trinkets as if they were the keys to the 
universe. 
"I have seen the guards let some people into Flagstaff, 
Dorothy. Why would they do that?" 
"Proxxers, like my dad." 
"I don't understand." 
Dorothy sat down beside her and checked both ways 
to see no one was watching. She dug deep into her 
clothing and pulled out a laminated blue identification 
card. It had the Daizaimoku logo in hologram on it and her 
name and thumbprint in red. Micro-fine type on the front 
and back defined all the rights and privileges she earned 
by possessing the card. 
Dorothy's voice dropped into a hoarse whisper tinged 
with fear. This is my Daisymuck ID card. It's blue 
because I can't vote, but I got it because my dad has 
signed his vote proxies over to the Corp. For his vote we 
get to eat, have housing and stuff. It ain't a whole lot but..." 
Dorothy's stomach growled. 
"It's something." Rajani likewise kept her voice low. 
"Can't that get you back into the city?" 
She shook her head. "Only in the company of a valid 
adult card. The folks that get in have a card from 
somewhere else that can be exchanged for one with 
Daisymuck. I have Mickey's card, so we could return if 
you had a white card." 
Rajani smiled slowly. "If I had a card, I could go in and 
they'd give me a Daizaimoku card, right? Then I could go 
in and out at will? I could come out and get you?" 
Dorothy nodded slowly. "Yeah, but finding a card to 
exchange is tough." She slipped her blue card into her 
clothes again as a sharp-eyed gang of adults wandered 
past. "The rovers are looking for cards that will get them 
in, too." 
"Couldn't I, ah...," What is the word I'm looking for? 
"...forge one?" 
Even Mickey giggled at that idea. 
Dorothy looked at her closely for a second, then 
shook her head. "For a gangbanger from Eclipse, you 
sure can be a Snow White. These cards have special 
fibers worked through them to prevent forgery. The 
microtype is virtually impossible to duplicate. Not only 
that, but if they detected a forgery, they'd take you out 
and shoot you." 
"For forgery?" 
Dorothy nodded solemnly. "Daizaimoku owns the 
votes of the proxxers. They use them to make the laws. 
They could be using them right now to pass a law that says 
squatting outside Flagstaff is a capital crime, and they 
could shoot all of us." 
"But that would be illegal." Rajani blinked in surprise. 


"This is still the United States, isn't it?" 
"Sure, so 10 years from now some court somewhere 
says what happened was wrong and someone gets fined. 
Big deal. They own Flag, they write the laws, they 
administer justicetheir justice." She reached over and 
tousled her brother's hair. 
"Let me look at your card again." Rajani forced all 
distraction away as Dorothy produced the small, blue 
card. Rajani took it from her and studied it closely. She 
memorized how it looked and what it said. She cataloged 
its weight and texture and temperature. She flipped it over 
and back, then looked over the layout on the card again. 
Once she had every little detail fixed in her mind, she 
slipped the card back to Dorothy. 
"What's another corp they would likely have seen here, 
but wouldn't find so familiar that they'd be able to spot a 
fake right off the bat?" 
Dorothy shrugged. "Maybe one of the Phoenix corps, 
like Sumitomo-Dial or Genentech-Carbide." She looked 
around through the litter surrounding their little campsite. 
Amid a small pile of metal scraps that Mickey had 
gathered up, she found the bent top of a tin of Vienna 
sausages. She straightened it out against her thigh, then 
handed it to Rajani. "There, Genentech-Carbide All-
Natural Simulated Koktail Weenies. Their logo's in the 
corner." 
Good, even close to the right size for the card. Rajani 
used her right thumbnail to score a line in the piece of 
metal, then she tore the aluminum along that line. She 
scraped the torn edge along a rock to dull it, then quickly 
brandished it. "What do you think?" 
Dorothy shivered and pulled Mickey close. "I think you 
stand a better chance of finding a kinky guard and 
working a deal with him than getting them to accept that 
as an ID card." 
Rajani glanced up at the night sky. "Another hour or 
two, and then I go." She smiled a devilish grin. "This will 
work. Trust me." 
Rajani waited until the wee hours of the night to make 
her approach. Out of range of Mickey's constant anxiety, 
she opened herself up to the thoughts and feelings of the 
three men on duty at the southern gate. The two armed 
guards who challenged those who approached both 
seemed sleepy, though their level of mental activity 
started a slow climb as she approached. The third man, 
sitting in a glassed-in cage in the center of the 15-foot 
thick wall, had a flat-level of brain activity which Rajani 
had come to associate with a drug-induced coma or 
watching television. 
"Need a card exchange." Rajani flashed her fake ID at 
the man approaching her. He hesitated, and she sensed 


confusion in him. She pushed her hat back on her head, 
and he looked up into her eyes. Locked! 
She projected into his brain a composite image made 
from Dorothy's ID card and the logo from the weiner tin. 
His confusion spiked into panic, but she sent sensations 
of embarrassment at having made a mistake and welcome 
relief at having recognized that fact. The man 
blushed, then shook his head. Right along with her, he 
wondered how he could ever have thought this harmless 
woman was a threat. 
He waved her on through the gate to the interior man. 
As she approached him, Rajani forced her racing heart to 
calm. Dr. Chandra's experiments had shown her to be 
very competent in manipulating and reading living creatures. 
Unfortunately for her, unlike other alien species, 
she showed no aptitude whatsoever for computer cracking 
or being able to mentally guide and influence machines. 


confusion in him. She pushed her hat back on her head, 
and he looked up into her eyes. Locked! 
She projected into his brain a composite image made 
from Dorothy's ID card and the logo from the weiner tin. 
His confusion spiked into panic, but she sent sensations 
of embarrassment at having made a mistake and welcome 
relief at having recognized that fact. The man 
blushed, then shook his head. Right along with her, he 
wondered how he could ever have thought this harmless 
woman was a threat. 
He waved her on through the gate to the interior man. 
As she approached him, Rajani forced her racing heart to 
calm. Dr. Chandra's experiments had shown her to be 
very competent in manipulating and reading living creatures. 
Unfortunately for her, unlike other alien species, 
she showed no aptitude whatsoever for computer cracking 
or being able to mentally guide and influence machines. 



he was." She smiled softly and looked down. "Only a 
week, but I'll never forget him." She pulsed sexual 
innuendo out with her statement, and got more puzzlement 
back in return. That confused her for a moment, 
then she sent Grant a revision of her image in which she 
sharpened her features a bit and let the hint of stubble dot 
her chin. 
Her quick sex change made Grant blush, and she felt 
an urge on his part to get rid of this evidence of his cousin's 
unnatural life-style. "Are you sure you want in here? 
Daizaimoku doesn't put up with any strangeness. They're 
very conservative here." 
"I know," she admitted as she looked up and softened 
her image again. "That was a time before I found out who 
I was and had my surgery." She smiled as she pushed a 
wave of confusion over Grant, then followed it with a quick 
one-two punch of exhaustion, and a vain hope that the 
damned reader wouldn't force him into preparing the card 
manually. 
Her assault succeeded in blasting Grant's rudimentary 
mental defenses into kindling. To him, she was a transsexual/
homosexual who had not settled for just a sex 
change. She'd gone so far as to tattoo her body black and 
gold and have some alterations done to her eyes. She was 
definitely a weird one, which was just exactly what he 
didn't need, especially during the middle of the Sylvester 
Stallone Comedy Film Festival. Why my shift? 
Rajani took advantage of his vulnerability and pushed 
him. "I remember John talking about the time you went 
fishing and those dogs came after you. He said he was 
angry that he got bit and you didn't, but when that 
farmhand nursed him back to health and awakened him, 
well, he considered it a blessing in disguise." 
Guilt gushed from Grant like oil from a ruptured 
pipeline. Rajani sent a message back through the waves 
of emotion pouring from the man. I don't want this on my 
shift, she sent. She'll be trouble if she gets in, and I don't 
want that on me. Why couldn't she have come back 
during the day? 

he was." She smiled softly and looked down. "Only a 
week, but I'll never forget him." She pulsed sexual 
innuendo out with her statement, and got more puzzlement 
back in return. That confused her for a moment, 
then she sent Grant a revision of her image in which she 
sharpened her features a bit and let the hint of stubble dot 
her chin. 
Her quick sex change made Grant blush, and she felt 
an urge on his part to get rid of this evidence of his cousin's 
unnatural life-style. "Are you sure you want in here? 
Daizaimoku doesn't put up with any strangeness. They're 
very conservative here." 
"I know," she admitted as she looked up and softened 
her image again. "That was a time before I found out who 
I was and had my surgery." She smiled as she pushed a 
wave of confusion over Grant, then followed it with a quick 
one-two punch of exhaustion, and a vain hope that the 
damned reader wouldn't force him into preparing the card 
manually. 
Her assault succeeded in blasting Grant's rudimentary 
mental defenses into kindling. To him, she was a transsexual/
homosexual who had not settled for just a sex 
change. She'd gone so far as to tattoo her body black and 
gold and have some alterations done to her eyes. She was 
definitely a weird one, which was just exactly what he 
didn't need, especially during the middle of the Sylvester 
Stallone Comedy Film Festival. Why my shift? 
Rajani took advantage of his vulnerability and pushed 
him. "I remember John talking about the time you went 
fishing and those dogs came after you. He said he was 
angry that he got bit and you didn't, but when that 
farmhand nursed him back to health and awakened him, 
well, he considered it a blessing in disguise." 
Guilt gushed from Grant like oil from a ruptured 
pipeline. Rajani sent a message back through the waves 
of emotion pouring from the man. I don't want this on my 
shift, she sent. She'll be trouble if she gets in, and I don't 
want that on me. Why couldn't she have come back 
during the day? 


out to her. She took it, nearly laughed at the illegible 
signature at the bottom, then winked at him. 
"Maybe I'll look you up when I get settled, okay, Bob?" 
"Sure. Drinks are on me," he smiled in contrast to the 
panic he was projecting. Rajani let his panic grow rapidly 
and sowed his mind with confusion. So much so, in fact, 
that it would be four days before he wondered why, after 
he gave her the pass, she wandered back out in the 
squatters camp. 
The immigration officer at the east gate accepted the 
temporary pass and issued her an official pass with the 
click of a half-dozen computer buttons. "Leslie Grant" 
legitimately entered Flagstaff with her two step-children 
in tow. Dorothy took charge of the expedition once they 
passed through the outer wall. Mickey let Rajani hold his 
hand as they trooped through the streets after his sister. 
Rajani sensed Dorothy's disappointment as they 
reached the destination she'd directed them toward. 
"Dammit, they've shifted things again. This was our 
contiminimum block, but it's been changed." 
"Don't you mean con-do-min-ium?" Rajani looked at 
the building in front of which Dorothy had stopped. The 
exterior had been painted a standard khaki tan and 
looked as if it had some flat sort of metal siding on it. Each 
apartment was marked by a single window in the street 
end of the building. Along the side, Rajani saw ribbed 
siding that added some texture to the building, but no 
windows or doors on that side. She saw the start of 
balconies and railing on the back side and assumed stairs 
there provided access to each of the four floors. 
The building itself had no street number, but beneath 
each window, in foot-high letters, she saw an eight-digit 
number. "What was your address, Dorothy?" 
"We lived in #49337629." She pointed at the third floor 
and along to the third apartment from the far end. "It used 
to be there, but now its gone. And, yes, I did mean 
contiminimum. You have to have these down in Phoenix." 
Mickey pointed off along the street. "Uane!" 
Dorothy followed her brother's line of sight and smiled. 
"Yes, a crane. C'mon." 
Holding firmly on to Mickey's hand, Rajani followed 
Dorothy down the street. As they traveled, she saw a 
number of other apartment complexes that looked as if 
they had been built out of the same sort of materials as the 
first one they'd looked at, but these had a different shape. 
One was a pyramid and another had two holes in the 
center. While each looked to Rajani to be different in 
overall shape, each could be broken own into small, boxy 
apartment components. 

out to her. She took it, nearly laughed at the illegible 
signature at the bottom, then winked at him. 
"Maybe I'll look you up when I get settled, okay, Bob?" 
"Sure. Drinks are on me," he smiled in contrast to the 
panic he was projecting. Rajani let his panic grow rapidly 
and sowed his mind with confusion. So much so, in fact, 
that it would be four days before he wondered why, after 
he gave her the pass, she wandered back out in the 
squatters camp. 
The immigration officer at the east gate accepted the 
temporary pass and issued her an official pass with the 
click of a half-dozen computer buttons. "Leslie Grant" 
legitimately entered Flagstaff with her two step-children 
in tow. Dorothy took charge of the expedition once they 
passed through the outer wall. Mickey let Rajani hold his 
hand as they trooped through the streets after his sister. 
Rajani sensed Dorothy's disappointment as they 
reached the destination she'd directed them toward. 
"Dammit, they've shifted things again. This was our 
contiminimum block, but it's been changed." 
"Don't you mean con-do-min-ium?" Rajani looked at 
the building in front of which Dorothy had stopped. The 
exterior had been painted a standard khaki tan and 
looked as if it had some flat sort of metal siding on it. Each 
apartment was marked by a single window in the street 
end of the building. Along the side, Rajani saw ribbed 
siding that added some texture to the building, but no 
windows or doors on that side. She saw the start of 
balconies and railing on the back side and assumed stairs 
there provided access to each of the four floors. 
The building itself had no street number, but beneath 
each window, in foot-high letters, she saw an eight-digit 
number. "What was your address, Dorothy?" 
"We lived in #49337629." She pointed at the third floor 
and along to the third apartment from the far end. "It used 
to be there, but now its gone. And, yes, I did mean 
contiminimum. You have to have these down in Phoenix." 
Mickey pointed off along the street. "Uane!" 
Dorothy followed her brother's line of sight and smiled. 
"Yes, a crane. C'mon." 
Holding firmly on to Mickey's hand, Rajani followed 
Dorothy down the street. As they traveled, she saw a 
number of other apartment complexes that looked as if 
they had been built out of the same sort of materials as the 
first one they'd looked at, but these had a different shape. 
One was a pyramid and another had two holes in the 
center. While each looked to Rajani to be different in 
overall shape, each could be broken own into small, boxy 
apartment components. 

Rajani saw the crane lifting a metal container and slowly 


lowering it into place on a new stack of buildings. They 
used to ship things in containers like this before I went into 
stasis. Now they cut a window in them and house people. 

lowering it into place on a new stack of buildings. They 
used to ship things in containers like this before I went into 
stasis. Now they cut a window in them and house people. 


from her like sound waves from a tuning fork. Mickey's 
head snapped up. "This is the reason you wanted to come 
home?" 
Dorothy closed the refrigerator door, cloaking herself 
with darkness. "He is my father. We are family." She didn't 
say it, but Rajani knew Dorothy clung desperately to 
something that was bad because it was better than having 
nothing. 
The man in the chair stirred a bit. "Dot? Getcher pa a 
beer?" His right hand opened, and the can it held dropped 
out of sight. It clattered heavily into an unseen aluminum 
midden and, from the sound it made, Rajani knew it had 
not been empty. 
"Sure, Da." The refrigerator door opened, and a silvery 
can appeared in Dorothy's hand. "Incoming, Da." 
Mickey looked up to watch his sister arc the can 
through the air toward her father. The can rotated nicely, 
making for an easy catch, but the man in the chair did 
nothing to grab it. It would have slammed into his 
stomach, but Rajani crossed the three steps to the chair 
and snagged it before it landed. 
The cold can sent a shiver up her spine. Rajani looked 
over at Dorothy. "Go clean your brother up. Get him ready 
for bed." She set the unopened can down in the man's 
right hand. "Your father and I are going to talk." 
"Dot, getcher dad a beer," he mumbled. 
Dorothy started to protest, but Rajani's eyes narrowed 
and let her know that nothing could be done to win a 
contest of wills at this point. Mickey looked from Dorothy 
to Rajani and back, then slowly released his father's leg 
and headed off down the narrow corridor beside the 
kitchen. Reluctantly, Dorothy followed him. 
Rajani moved and cut off the man's view of the 
television. His left thumb punched buttons on the remote 
control, but nothing changed. He blinked his eyes once, 
then twice in rapid succession. The slack muscles of his 
face tightened, giving some shape to his stubbly cheeks. 
His mouth closed, then his tongue licked dry lips. 
"Whaaaa?" 
"What am I?" Rajani drove an axe blade of sheer terror 
through the man's mind. She chopped through his stupor 
and saw what memories arose in response to the fright she 
projected into him. She raced past his fear of failing his 
children, the despair from the death of his girlfriend and 
the pain of losing his wife. What she wanted was deeper 
and more primal. She sliced down in until she blew by his 
adolescence and touched the memories he recorded 
when he was little older than Mickey. "That's right, I'm the 
Grimmand," she growled, co-opting the name of the 
bogeyman his mother used to frighten him with. "I've 
come to see what sort of man would sell his children 


before I rip him to pieces." 
She grabbed the beer can in her right hand and 
punched her golden nails through the front of it. Beer 
sprayed out over his face and torso, then she tossed the 
foaming can down into the pile beside his chair. "Greed, 
sloth, gluttony or the greatest sinstupidity. Which was 
it?" 
The man stared at her wide-eyed with terror. "Not sold, 
not sold..." 
"Don't lie to me!" Rajani yanked free the memory of his 
handing Dorothy and Mickey over to his brother Andy. 


"Get a good price for her, and whatever you can get for 
him!" She made those words echo again and again inside 
his head. She used them to shatter his self-image and in 
her anger it took her a second or two to realize how easily 
it had collapsed. Within the shards of a heroic granite 
statue, she discovered a wailing infant and, as she 
watched, it regressed in age to the point where it could no 
longer survive. 


He's dying. He has no will to live. He's been killing 
himself by inches since they left. She projected herself 
into his mind and scooped him up into her arms. No, you 
cannot die on me. Your daughter needs you. Your son 
needs you. You will live for them. 

The infant looked up at her with an ancient weariness 
in its eyes. Its mouth opened, but its tiny lungs couldn't 
power out a scream. Its little fingers grasped at nothing, 
silently signing its inability to succeed at anything. I am 
worthless. Let me go! 

Rajani shook her head, and a golden lock curled 
through the premature baby's right palm. The fist closed 
on it, and the baby clutched at it with all its failing might. 
Rajani knew he wanted to pull on her hair and hurt her, but 
he could not. Still, she used that desire to slowly bring him 
back. You cannot hurt me. You are less than either of 
your children, and they could not hurt me. Not yet, 
anyway. I am safe from them, and safe from you. 

The child in her arms aged rapidly. He plumped quickly 
enough that she had to set him down. In the half-second 
it took her to do that, the child's legs had become strong 
enough to support his weight. He rapidly progressed from 
infant through toddler to his son's age. The child looked 
down at his body, then up at her. "What is the use? The 
world was hell when I grew up. It was worse when Dorothy 
was born and worse again when Mickey came. I have 
failed them. I failed their mother. They are better off 
without me." 
"No, they are not." 
"Others will care for them, do better for them." 
"But your children don't love others. They love you." 
Rajani aimed a solid stream of thoughts at the child. She 


poured into him her memories of the trip, including the 
things his children said about him. She forced their father 
to see himself through the eyes of his children and to know 
how much they loved and depended upon him. His bond 
with them was more than as someone who obtained food 
for them and maintained their shelter. He was the core of 
their reality, and Rajani drilled that point home over and 
over again. 
As the memories filled him, the child grew into a man. 
He fought against the transformation, staring at adult 
limbs as if they were unwanted growths. He scraped at the 
whiskers on his face and raked his fingers across his hairy 
chest. He slumped down to deny his height and hugged 
his arms around himself to make himself seems smaller. 
"No, I cannot take responsibility for them. I am not strong 
enough. It is too difficult." 
Rajani reached up and grabbed his upper arms. "You 
have the strength. No, you will not change the world, but 
your children can. They are strong, and they have done 
incredible things to return to you. You owe them. You 
know there is only one way to escape what haunts you, 
and that is to ensure that you and your wife are immortal 
by providing your children the foundation for their success." 
"Can I?" 
"By simply surviving, you will be that foundation." 
Rajani backed away from him. "With a little bit of effort on 
your part, they will excel beyond your wildest dreams." 
She withdrew herself from his mind and straightened 
up over his slumped form. He looked up at her, then his 
eyes closed. For a half-second she thought he might have 
slipped away again, but then a loud buzzing snore sounded 
from him, and Rajani smiled. 
"He always did sound like a chain saw." Dorothy leaned 
against the apartment wall. "You're not from Phoenix, are 
you?" 
Rajani shook her head. "No, but I am heading there." 
Dorothy looked right through her. "Are you even 
human?" 
Rajani stiffened. "Human enough to know what it is to 
lose your parents." She looked down at Dorothy's father. 
"He'll be okay now, I think. He knows what he means to 
you and how important he is to you. He lost that somewhere, 
when your mother died and the pressure got too 
great. He's found it again." 
"Are you going to stay? We have room." 
Rajani smiled confidently in the face of Dorothy's 
fear and hopefulness. "Don't worry, Dorothy. You are 
more than strong enough to see to your brother and 
father. You don't need me here, neither does your 
father." She hugged her arms around herself. "I would 


very much like to stay, but what I have to do necessitates 
my making it to Phoenix. In fact, I should probably 
head out tonight." 
Dorothy crossed the room and hugged her tightly. 
"Thank you, Rajani." 
Rajani returned the hug, then broke it and blinked away 
tears. "Give Mickey my love." 
Dorothy nodded and sniffled. "I hope you find what 
you're looking for." 
Rajani winked at her and retreated from the apartment. 
She let the sound of the crane's loud engine pound into her 
and blank her mind as quickly as possible. She lengthened 
her stride to get away from there fast, but something 
tugged at her. She turned and took one look back. 
"Ouah-ah, ajni," Mickey yelled to her from the window. 
His broken smile lit his face and conjured a smile on her 
face. 
She waved at him. Good-bye, Mickey. Be safe. 
You, too, Rajani. Good-bye! 


She stared at him, then they shared a silent laugh and 
Rajani wandered happily off into the night. 



Coyote drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He 
let it out slowly and forced himself to ignore the dull ache 
in his ribs from where a getsul had kicked him during the 
morning exercises. It hurts, but my counterstrike would 
have killed him had I not pulled it. He did not expect his 
attack to get through and was preparing a counter to my 
parry. He thought too far ahead and paid. 

Coyote heard the whisper of Mong's bare feet on the 
stone floor of his room, but he did not open his eyes. 
Instead, he concentrated and drank in all the clues to the 
man's presence. He knew enough about Mong to know 
that the noise had been intentional, but Coyote wondered 
if the monk could control the ticklish chill of the air 
currents swirling around him, or the faint scent of dried 
sweat. He didn't think so, but he discovered he'd not have 
been surprised if the monk had that ability. 
"You fought well this morning, Kyi-can. You combine 
the grace of aikido with a very lethal form of karate." 
"Thank you, Lama Mong. Your acolytes are very 
skilled." Coyote forced his fists open and laid them palm-
up in his lap. "Only their reticence to kill prevents them 
from defeating me." Coyote opened his eyes and felt 
pleased his head was turned to face Mong exactly. 
"Perhaps, Kyi-can, perhaps." The wizened monk's 
almond eyes narrowed. "They view the martial arts and 
weapons training as a means toward an end." 


"As do I." 
"They pursue self-discovery and awareness instead of 
death. The discipline and exercise fuses body and soul 
and spirit into a single union that becomes the core of 
each student's being." Mong's hands described a globe 
that he compressed into a tight, small ball. "This knowledge 
of self is vital because, in its compressed form, it is 
stripped of labels and tags and only comprises that which 
one truly is." 
The monastery's visitor frowned. "I am not certain I 
follow this." 
Mong smiled benevolently. "The average manand I 
assure you that you are not averagewould respond to 
being asked, 'Who are you?' in a very predictable way. He 
would say his name, then note that he had a degree in 
history from, say, the University of Vermont, or that he 
had won an industry award for something he did, or that 
he was on the board of this corporation or that, and so on. 
It is much akin to describing the nature of an automobile 
by noting the color of its paint and the brand of its tires. It 
speaks to the trappings of its nature, but not the truth of 
its nature itself." 
Coyote nodded. The sum and total of his knowledge 
about himself came down to facts contained in two very 
slim files. The first said he was Tycho Caine, an assassin 
trained in a highly secret place in Japan. He liked fast cars, 
gambling and was one of the best assassins in the world. 
Everything else beyond that was a fraud created by 
himself, his former master or the previous Coyote. The 
second file, the one that detailed his life as Michael Loring, 
he knew to be less than a month old and put together 
through cooperation between Nero Loring and Jytte 
Ravel. 
Both identities would check fully within the technological 
world. Caine and Loring had superior credit ratings 
and a string of transcripts that made him seem a genius 
who blew through schools like bullets through crpe 
paper. Because the information concerning those identities 
had been encrypted and duplicated, infused into 
magnetic tape strips and matched with laser disks and 
barcodes, he existed and was real. Because of that data, 
and who it said he was supposed to be, people he had 
never met would claim to be his classmates and others 
would confess to having known him for a long time. 
Still, despite that real-world legitimacy, his core had 
been shaped quite differently. As Mong spoke, Coyote 
realized he did not have much in the way of the tags and 
labels associated with him. Those who trained me stripped 
that away and prevented its accretion so I would not have 
to work past it later. I was being groomed for what I will 
be taught here. 


What he could tell about himself did make him proud. 
As the physical training with the acolytes had shown, he 
had a union of self and body that made him a most deadly 
opponent. He knew, from the adventure that culminated 
in frustrating Fiddleback, that his training had made him 
quick of mind and capable of acting ruthlessly when the 
situation demanded it. Even so, by his reluctance to 
engage in wholesale slaughter, a slaughter of which he 
was very capable, he knew that he had some internal 
brake on the darker side of his being. 
"Sunyata is the name we give to the discipline of 
studying nonbeing or the void. This is necessary because 
the little tags and labels serve as hooks and anchors to 
keep us in our reality. As we define ourselves in association 
with things in this world, we bind ourselves to this 
world. While Mi-ma-yin introduced me as the khenpo of 
Kanggenpo, I think of myself only as Mong. Like a hot-air 
balloon wishing to fly up from the ground, anchor lines 
must be cut and ballast must be cast off." 
Coyote nodded. "As I have little baggage in this regard, 
I hope this will be possible. I know better than to hope it 
will be simple." 
"Discovery is simple, but mastery is torture itself." 
Mong folded his arms across his chest. "Mi-ma-yin 
learned quickly but, like you, his anchors were few. His 
mastery likewise came quickly, but that was because he 
had a need that drove him. Have you such a need?" 
The images of Fiddleback and the empty skull of an 
innocent girl fused in his brain. "Yes." 
"Excellent. Then we shall begin simply." The hint of a 
smile tugged at the corners of Mong's mouth. "Here is an 
old Zen koan that should help you: What is the sound of 
one hand clapping?" 
As the monk left the room, Coyote's eyes closed. What 
is the sound of one hand clapping? Instantly, his mind 
flashed to the sound made when he slapped a hand 
against a thigh or when fingers slapped down against his 
palm. Those sound like claps, but the first is not a hand 
acting alone, and the second is not really a clap. Those are 
wrong. 

What he could tell about himself did make him proud. 
As the physical training with the acolytes had shown, he 
had a union of self and body that made him a most deadly 
opponent. He knew, from the adventure that culminated 
in frustrating Fiddleback, that his training had made him 
quick of mind and capable of acting ruthlessly when the 
situation demanded it. Even so, by his reluctance to 
engage in wholesale slaughter, a slaughter of which he 
was very capable, he knew that he had some internal 
brake on the darker side of his being. 
"Sunyata is the name we give to the discipline of 
studying nonbeing or the void. This is necessary because 
the little tags and labels serve as hooks and anchors to 
keep us in our reality. As we define ourselves in association 
with things in this world, we bind ourselves to this 
world. While Mi-ma-yin introduced me as the khenpo of 
Kanggenpo, I think of myself only as Mong. Like a hot-air 
balloon wishing to fly up from the ground, anchor lines 
must be cut and ballast must be cast off." 
Coyote nodded. "As I have little baggage in this regard, 
I hope this will be possible. I know better than to hope it 
will be simple." 
"Discovery is simple, but mastery is torture itself." 
Mong folded his arms across his chest. "Mi-ma-yin 
learned quickly but, like you, his anchors were few. His 
mastery likewise came quickly, but that was because he 
had a need that drove him. Have you such a need?" 
The images of Fiddleback and the empty skull of an 
innocent girl fused in his brain. "Yes." 
"Excellent. Then we shall begin simply." The hint of a 
smile tugged at the corners of Mong's mouth. "Here is an 
old Zen koan that should help you: What is the sound of 
one hand clapping?" 
As the monk left the room, Coyote's eyes closed. What 
is the sound of one hand clapping? Instantly, his mind 
flashed to the sound made when he slapped a hand 
against a thigh or when fingers slapped down against his 
palm. Those sound like claps, but the first is not a hand 
acting alone, and the second is not really a clap. Those are 
wrong. 


of all the things holding me in this reality. Perhaps the 
Western paradigm of logical and scientific thinking is 
merely a construct of this world. There were things I saw 
in other dimensions that seemed to defy the very physical 
laws we use to define our world, so perhaps that is 
holding me back. 

of all the things holding me in this reality. Perhaps the 
Western paradigm of logical and scientific thinking is 
merely a construct of this world. There were things I saw 
in other dimensions that seemed to defy the very physical 
laws we use to define our world, so perhaps that is 
holding me back. 

Moreover, it struck him that the answer to that question 
would have to be broader than the focus of his inquiry so 
far. He had been concentrating on mechanisms for 
creating the sound so he could follow what the sound 
would be. In reality, he had been asked what that sound 
was. 

I know of no method by which a hand can clap by itself 
or produce a sound. It is impossible for a hand to clap by 
itself. It follows then that there is no sound that can be 
made by a single hand clapping. So, the sound of one 
hand clapping is nothing! 

The concept of nothing detonated in his brain with the 
force of a 10-megaton bomb. The sea of nonsequiturs 
dried up, leaving desiccated phrases in the mental mud 
that its head then fused into stone. Pressure built and 
pushed his consciousness outside, letting his world fragment 
and fray until it projected his mental eye out of his 
skull and sent it jetting up through the ceiling of the room. 
As his sense of self flew above him, the whole monastery 
became like glass to him. He could see distorted 
shapes and shadows through the thick bricks. Only the 
dark heart of the temple itself remained opaque to his 
sight, and that disturbed him. That is the Gonkhang 
which is where the Yidam is supposed to dwell. I cannot 
see there, but what I feel... 

Utterly hostile sensations pulsed out from the black 
rectangle representing the underground chapel. They 
stung him like fragments from a grenade, and his attempt 


to evade them almost shocked him back into his body. 
Coyote focused his mind on nothingness and the pain 
lessened. 
Coyote willed himself forward and down toward the 
blackness, then realized that in doing so he projected his 
own sensations out and into that block. He saw a reddish 
sphere push out and around himself, then merge with the 
darkness. As it did so, the sensations he had been feeling 
immediately vanished and the rectangle cleared to show 
an empty place cast in ghostly twilight tones. 
The sudden and sharp shifting from dangerous and 
alien to harmless confused Coyote. In that instant, he 
snapped his eyes open. He found himself, sweat-soaked 
and chest-heaving, still kneeling in his chamber. The thin 
sliver of daylight that normally slashed through his doorway 
had vanished. The sweat on his flesh conducted the 
night's chill straight through him, yet his shiver came from 
more than the cold. 
Night. I've meditated for the better part of the day. His 
stomach rumbled loudly. Or days. 
He rose to his feet and pulled on a black, sleeveless T-
shirt. In bare feet, he padded down the stone hallway. He 
let the darkness embrace him and, as he passed before 
each darkened doorway of a monk's cell, he sensed the 
sleeping man within. Beyond them, like the omnipresent 
crash of waves on the beach, he felt the power radiating 
out from the monks at each gate. Yet, despite all he was 
sensing, the heart of the temple seemed a great void to 
him and that, he knew, was as unnatural as he once would 
have supposed feeling anything at all was. 
Letting his right hand brush against the corridor's wall, 
he stalked through the ancient buildings and toward the 
temple. He assumed he could gain access to the Gonkhang 
through the Dukhang. Even though he had told Mong he 
would respect the Gonkhang's sanctity, the urgency he 
felt to unravel the mystery there overrode his need to keep 
his promise. He had survived in battling Fiddleback by 
leaving nothing to chance, and a void in center of the 
lamasery would not do. 
The whistled hiss of a weapon being swung through the 
air echoed up and out of the training area as Coyote swept 
past it. He stopped and listened for a moment, but heard 
nothing. He concentrated and forced himself to wait 
passively for any sensation in the room, but it remained 
psychically silent. No feelings, no sound, nothing. 
He smiled to himself. The sound of one hand clapping. 
Silently, he slipped into the shadowed training room 
and slowly descended the stairs. He moved so painstakingly 
slow that tired and tight muscles threatened to 
cramp on him, but he persisted. Step by step he went 
down. He let the cold of the stones bleed up through his 


feet, and he visualized his outline vanishing within the 
darkness. 
After 30 minutes, he had reached the halfway point in 
his descent. A dozen steps remained in his trek, and with 
each step his feeling of closing on his prey increased. He 
sensed himself the hunter, yet did all he could to banish 
that feeling. He knew for certain, because of its ability to 
mask itself, that the thing he sought had skills beyond 
those he himself possessed. In an instant, this thing could 
turn on me and, doubtlessly, destroy me. 

feet, and he visualized his outline vanishing within the 
darkness. 
After 30 minutes, he had reached the halfway point in 
his descent. A dozen steps remained in his trek, and with 
each step his feeling of closing on his prey increased. He 
sensed himself the hunter, yet did all he could to banish 
that feeling. He knew for certain, because of its ability to 
mask itself, that the thing he sought had skills beyond 
those he himself possessed. In an instant, this thing could 
turn on me and, doubtlessly, destroy me. 


creature's center of balance shift. He heard his foe land on 
the floor, but not heavily enough to cause injury, then it 
rolled away in the whisper of silken robes. 
Coyote pushed himself off the floor and leaped to his 
feet, but his fatigue left him feeling disoriented in the 
darkness. He half-turned to the left, seeking any clue that 
could help place him in the room, then stars exploded 
before his eyes as a kick caught him above the left eye. 
His head snapped around to the right and his stunned 
body tumbled off in that direction. 
He hit the ground and bounced once. Regaining momentary 
control of himself, he let his body spin, and then 
twisted around so he could let the momentum bring him 
to his feet again. As he did so, however, he ran into the side 
of the stairs and smacked his head against the stone. 
Huge shimmering balls of light burst like fireworks in his 
vision. He shook his head and closed his eyes, but nothing 
would banish them. His left hand snaked back and felt 
blood coming from the wound in the back of his head. I 
need help. 

creature's center of balance shift. He heard his foe land on 
the floor, but not heavily enough to cause injury, then it 
rolled away in the whisper of silken robes. 
Coyote pushed himself off the floor and leaped to his 
feet, but his fatigue left him feeling disoriented in the 
darkness. He half-turned to the left, seeking any clue that 
could help place him in the room, then stars exploded 
before his eyes as a kick caught him above the left eye. 
His head snapped around to the right and his stunned 
body tumbled off in that direction. 
He hit the ground and bounced once. Regaining momentary 
control of himself, he let his body spin, and then 
twisted around so he could let the momentum bring him 
to his feet again. As he did so, however, he ran into the side 
of the stairs and smacked his head against the stone. 
Huge shimmering balls of light burst like fireworks in his 
vision. He shook his head and closed his eyes, but nothing 
would banish them. His left hand snaked back and felt 
blood coming from the wound in the back of his head. I 
need help. 

Despite the throbbing pain in the back of his head, 
Coyote forced himself to conjure up the last image he had 
seen. He melded all the views of it he had seen into one, 
then deleted the distortion caused by the balls. Piece after 
piece slid into place, and he suddenly realized where he 
had seen the black face with white tusks and red eyes 
before. 
I fought the Yidam down here. He opened his eyes and 


saw his thought confirmed by Mong's unguarded glance 
at him. Fine, Mong. You play your game, and I'll play 
mine. Do what you will, but I guarantee this: In the end, 
I'll know why a Buddhist demon exists in the heart of this 
monastery and why you keep this such a deep, dark 
secret. 

saw his thought confirmed by Mong's unguarded glance 
at him. Fine, Mong. You play your game, and I'll play 
mine. Do what you will, but I guarantee this: In the end, 
I'll know why a Buddhist demon exists in the heart of this 
monastery and why you keep this such a deep, dark 
secret. 
Sin lay back in bed as Erika sat up and reached for a 
cigarette and her lighter. He stroked her back with his right 
hand. She smiled at him, the lit her cigarette, drew deeply 
on it and sent a plume of smoke up toward the ceiling. 
She offered him the cigarette, but he shook his head. 
"Never developed the habit, I'm afraid." 
She smiled, the cherry on the end of the cigarette 
putting a rosy glow on her face. "I quit a long time ago, but 
a cigarette still tastes great after sex." She raked the 
fingernails of her left hand through the damp hair on his 
chest. "With you around, though, I could become a regular 
chain-smoker." 
Sin picked her left hand up and kissed her palm. "Ah, 
but smoking is bad for you. You'll have to get plenty of 
exercise to counteract those evil effects." 
Erika smiled at him and laughed lightly. "That could 
become a deliriously wonderful cycle, you know." She 
yawned. 
"My thoughts exactly." Sin suppressed his own yawn. 
"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted." 
Erika nodded and stubbed her cigarette out in the 
ashtray on the nightstand. "Tired but very, very happy." 
She slid down beside him and pulled the sheet up to her 
waist. Doubling the pillow over, she lay on her left side and 
smiled at him. "An hour or two of shut-eye, then see what 
we can do to raise the price of Phillip Morris stock, shall 
we?" 
Sin reached down and pulled the sheet up to her 
shoulder. He kissed her on the tip of her pert nose, then 
slowly slipped out of bed. "I'm going to hit the shower for 
a second here, to cool off. Be back before you know it." 
As he stood up she said, "Wait." 
"What?" 
She held her right hand out, thumb erect, as if she were 
an artist trying to judge relative sizes of objects in a 
painting. "Just wanted to memorize you so I get you right 
in this dream I'm planning." 
"Oh?" 
"It will be wonderful." She yawned and stretched. 
"Wake me when you get back, and I'll show you all about 
it." She closed her eyes and feigned sleep, then winked at 


him and snuggled beneath the sheet. 
Weaving slightly unsteadily for his first step, Sin stumbled 
to the bathroom and shut the door before he flicked the 
light on. Its brightness stung his eyes, but he shielded them 
with his left hand, then leaned heavily against the sink. 
Lowering his hand, he looked up at his reflection and 
shook his head. 

him and snuggled beneath the sheet. 
Weaving slightly unsteadily for his first step, Sin stumbled 
to the bathroom and shut the door before he flicked the 
light on. Its brightness stung his eyes, but he shielded them 
with his left hand, then leaned heavily against the sink. 
Lowering his hand, he looked up at his reflection and 
shook his head. 

He opened the shower stall's smoky-glass door and 
stepped in. He set the water on medium and pointed the 
nozzle toward the wall. As the door snapped shut behind 
him, he yanked up on the water control handle and started 
a stinging spray from the shower head. He let it warm up 
and swung the nozzle in line with his head. 
Washing down over him, the water felt as wonderful as 
his time at the Kimpunshima party did. With Erika on his 
arm, no one paid too much attention to him. This gave him 
the freedom to listen a lot, and he realized that Kimpunshima 
had not changed too much since he had lived in Japan. 
It was still the bastion of ethnocentric fools who gloried in 
the high salaries their companies paid them to live in 
Japan, without realizing that, contrary to their self-images, 
they were not at the top of the food chain. 
What had surprised him was the number, and relative 
importance, of the Japanese at the party. Most had been 
identified to him as middle- to upper-level employees with 
different Japanese corporations. It struck him that the 
majority of them were American- or European-born or 
raised and had been selected for ease of interface with the 
Kimpunshima residents. Still, Sin had been told one 
person, a handsome young man, was Ryuhito, the 
emperor's grandson, which would have been a great 
departure from the sort of interaction he had seen in the 
past. 
The other odd thing he noticed was a recurring topic of 
conversation. He had been used to fads of all types 
traveling like diseases through the Kimpunshima population 
when he had lived in Japan. At one point, for a month 
he preferred to forget entirely, it seemed like every 
European had a Hula Hoop grafted to his middle. Paleoretro 
parties built on the 1950s theme predominated the 
social schedule at the time. He remembered one costume 
party in which people were required to come as their 
favorite old television characterand they had to dress in 
shades of black and white with gray make-up to keep the 
look genuine. He recalled a nasty fight when Ethel Mertz 


found Fred with Rowdy Yates and Dale Evans, but in 
general, it had been harmless. 
The difference he found at the party was that people 
almost seemed to be proselytizing about Arrigo and 
Michelle El-Leichter and the Galbro training center they 
had. At first he thought they ran some sort of business-skill 
improvement center, but the sense he got from folks was 
that it was something more. They kept hinting at hidden 
knowledge, which means they're being conned. One of 
the things old Horatio might not have dreamt of is that 
there are folks who are out to separate anyone and 
everyone from their money. 

found Fred with Rowdy Yates and Dale Evans, but in 
general, it had been harmless. 
The difference he found at the party was that people 
almost seemed to be proselytizing about Arrigo and 
Michelle El-Leichter and the Galbro training center they 
had. At first he thought they ran some sort of business-skill 
improvement center, but the sense he got from folks was 
that it was something more. They kept hinting at hidden 
knowledge, which means they're being conned. One of 
the things old Horatio might not have dreamt of is that 
there are folks who are out to separate anyone and 
everyone from their money. 


the face of his wishes." 
Sin took the gun and popped the clip out. Pulling the 
slide back, he popped the single-chambered round out 
and caught it before it hit the floor. He replaced it in the clip, 
but did not return the clip to the gun. "What do you want, 
Nagashita?" 
The IDC man opened the bathroom door. "Your living 
room, now." 
Sin walked out of the bathroom and in the light of the 
bedside lamp saw that wet, rumpled sheets and cigarette 
ash were the only evidence that Erika had ever been there. 
He tossed the gun and clip on the bed, then reached for the 
pants he had draped over a chair. 
Nagashita shoved him from behind. "He just asked me 
to deliver you, nendo. He said nothing about having you 
dress." 
Snarling soundlessly, Sin walked to the bedroom doorway 
and saw six IDC ninja stationed around the room. Two 
stood at the doorway through which he passed and 
another two stood beside the main door. The last two 
bracketed the chair that had been pulled into the middle 
of the living room floor. 
The only light came from the bedroom and filtered out 
and around Sin's shadow. Moving forward and to the side 
let a tantalizingly brief flash of light wash over the old man 
sitting in the chair, then Nagashita's black outline covered 
him. No, it's not possible. 
The voice coming from the chair sounded to Sin to be 
far too strong for the frail body he had seen. "Forgive me, 
Mr. MacNeal, but the logistics of having you visit me are 
more fraught with danger than the reverse. Also, please 
excuse the fact that you will never see Ms. Conklin again 
in Japan. Her visitation and work permits have been 
revoked. It is for her safety." 
Sin shook his head, scattering droplets of water around 
the room. "I don't understand." 
The little man's silhouette held up its right hand and 
rubbed thumb against forefingers until a droplet of water 
evaporated. This evening you attended a party that 
included among its number my grandson. Your presence 
was brought to Colonel Nagashita's attention, and he 
immediately requested the honor of killing you. You 
caused him much embarrassment three years ago and, at 
that time, he requested leave of me to kill himself." 
Sin glanced back over his shoulder at Nagashita. "He 
always was a traditionalist." 
"As am I, Mr. MacNeal, yet I am a pragmatist as well. 
Colonel Nagashita was too valuable to me then to let him 
die, and you are too valuable to me now to let him kill you." 
His hand returned to his lap. "I need your services." 
"I am flattered, but I already have an employer." 


"I know. I believe he would find my mission and 
whatever he has charged you with coincide in most 
important areas. After all, Michael Loring appeared to 
head up Lorica Industries after the former CEO, Nerys 
Loring, died amid a strange atmospheric disturbance. I 
know you are here in connection with that, and I know that 
storm has been linked with the appearance of a monstrous 
creature in Phoenix itself." 
The American laughed. "I am afraid I find it easier to 
believe Godzilla will rampage through Tokyo tonight than 
I do to believe a monster threatened Phoenix." 
"But if you thought Godzilla or something like it did 
threaten Phoenix or Tokyo or your family, you would do 
what you could to prevent it, would you not?" 
Sin slowly nodded. "I would." 
"And thus I am doing." The old man's head came up. 
"You have heard of Arrigo and Michelle El-Leichter?" 
Sin nodded again. "Yes. They live in Kimpunshima and 
appear to have some sort of training institute set up there." 
"I believe they exercise an undue influence on my 
grandson." 
"Exile them, just like you did Erika." Sin's response 
came a bit hot, and Nagashita hissed behind him. "Forgive 
my rudeness, but it seems like a viable solution." 
The old man remained silent for a moment, then spoke 
again in a lower voice. "I cannot. They have powerful 
friends who protect them. Exiling my grandson will do no 
good. He must be shown that they are frauds and stupid 
so that he can make up his own mind to abandon them. 
To do that I need someone inside their organization who 
can reach him and sow doubt in his mind. You are an 
American, and Colonel Nagashita's disgust with you is 
well known. I could not manufacture a better agent to be 
inserted into their school." 
"I understand your reasoning, but why do you need 
your grandson turned away from them? Can't you just 
explain things to him?" 
"There are two facts of life in Japan for the Imperial 
family, Mr. Mac Neal. The first is that an industrial shogunate 
has imposed itself and has, realistically, stripped away the 
last of the power the emperor ever had. This is especially 
frustrating for a virile young man who wants to shape the 
future of his nation. Because of his blood, he cannot enter 
industry and exercise power, yet because of his blood, he 
is the best choice to lead his nation." 
The little man's voice picked up new power as he 
continued. The second fact, and it is a fact, is one of 
history. My father renounced his divinity as part of the 
settlement of the Great Pacific War. He paid that price to 
preserve his nation and its identity. Christians note their 
Jesus gave his life for his people. In the same way, my 


father made a supreme sacrifice. However, his renunciation 
of divinity does not change the fact that blood of gods 
runs in our veins. 
"You might think that curious, Mr. MacNeal, a relic of a 
past time, a myth. It is not. It is fact and, at once, both 
wonderful and terrible. The power that blood confers on 
the Imperial family is incalculable and, were it misused, 
could be disastrous." 
An uneasy shiver ran down Sin's spine. Blood of the 
gods? This is as crazy as giant spiders invading Phoenix, 
yet I find myself believing him. "You think Arrigo El-
Leichter is trying to use your grandson and his divine 
blood in some way that will hurt Japan?" 
"Not just Japan, but the world." The man's hands came 
together into a black knot. "The El-Leichters are based in 
your Phoenix and operated out of Hawaii until indicted in 
an illegal phone credit-card scheme. They have many 
followers who are influential throughout the world. They 
claim connection with a brotherhood of space travelers, 
and we have no way of knowing how much of what they 
say is true." 
Something told Sin that no matter how bizarre this 
sounded, the El-Leichters were just as dangerous as the 
people Coyote had sent him to Japan to find. He distrusted 
any conclusion based on next to no information, 
but he'd also learned to trust his hunches. "All right, you 
want me to infiltrate the El-Leichter institution and dissuade 
your grandson from following them. I'll do it, but on 
two conditions." 
"You will not find me ungrateful if you succeed, Mr. 
MacNeal." 
"I believe you. First, I want Nagashita kept away from 
me and my friends. I need running room, and I don't need 
a shadow right now. If I need him, I'll call him." 
The man in shadows nodded. "Done." 
"Second, when this is over, I'll need help finishing off the 
job my boss gave me to do. I would like your help in that." 
"This you will have, if you save my grandson." 
"I'll do my best." Sin nodded solemnly. "What if that 
isn't good enough?" 
The little man remained immobile for a second, then his 
head nodded forward. "Colonel Nagashita informed me 
you have a gun. I assume you know how to use it." 
"You want me to kill your grandson?" 
"I do not desire his death, but it would be better to mourn 
at his funeral then to preside over the destruction of the 
world." 

father made a supreme sacrifice. However, his renunciation 
of divinity does not change the fact that blood of gods 
runs in our veins. 
"You might think that curious, Mr. MacNeal, a relic of a 
past time, a myth. It is not. It is fact and, at once, both 
wonderful and terrible. The power that blood confers on 
the Imperial family is incalculable and, were it misused, 
could be disastrous." 
An uneasy shiver ran down Sin's spine. Blood of the 
gods? This is as crazy as giant spiders invading Phoenix, 
yet I find myself believing him. "You think Arrigo El-
Leichter is trying to use your grandson and his divine 
blood in some way that will hurt Japan?" 
"Not just Japan, but the world." The man's hands came 
together into a black knot. "The El-Leichters are based in 
your Phoenix and operated out of Hawaii until indicted in 
an illegal phone credit-card scheme. They have many 
followers who are influential throughout the world. They 
claim connection with a brotherhood of space travelers, 
and we have no way of knowing how much of what they 
say is true." 
Something told Sin that no matter how bizarre this 
sounded, the El-Leichters were just as dangerous as the 
people Coyote had sent him to Japan to find. He distrusted 
any conclusion based on next to no information, 
but he'd also learned to trust his hunches. "All right, you 
want me to infiltrate the El-Leichter institution and dissuade 
your grandson from following them. I'll do it, but on 
two conditions." 
"You will not find me ungrateful if you succeed, Mr. 
MacNeal." 
"I believe you. First, I want Nagashita kept away from 
me and my friends. I need running room, and I don't need 
a shadow right now. If I need him, I'll call him." 
The man in shadows nodded. "Done." 
"Second, when this is over, I'll need help finishing off the 
job my boss gave me to do. I would like your help in that." 
"This you will have, if you save my grandson." 
"I'll do my best." Sin nodded solemnly. "What if that 
isn't good enough?" 
The little man remained immobile for a second, then his 
head nodded forward. "Colonel Nagashita informed me 
you have a gun. I assume you know how to use it." 
"You want me to kill your grandson?" 
"I do not desire his death, but it would be better to mourn 
at his funeral then to preside over the destruction of the 
world." 

Lost in his own little world, Mickey pushed a stamped 
tin car along the sidewalk in front of the box in which his 
family lived. The rear wheel supports scraped along the 
ground and left wavy white lines on the concrete. The 
wheels has long ago vanished, but Mickey didn't mind. In 
that vehicle, he saw himself and his sister and father and 
Rajani all driving off to a place where they could be happy. 
He did not hear the man walk up, but that came less 
because of his hearing loss from repeated ear infections 
than it did from the man's stealthy nature. Instead, Mickey 
felt his presence and looked up. The man's bald head 
eclipsed the sun, giving him a nimbus halo. Despite 
having to look up at the man and his having such a 
startling silhouette, Mickey saw he was small. Having met 
Rajani, though, he did not mistake a tiny physique for 
powerlessness. 
"Yii." 
"Yes, hello to you, too." The man's voice came softly, 
barely a whisper, yet Mickey heard it clearly above the 
roar of the crane piling more apartments onto the building. 
How are you today, Mickey? 
You can brain-talk! Mickey smiled openly, for a half-
second forgetting how such things had spawned revulsion 
and ridicule by others. 
I can indeed.The man squatted down, and the sun 
briefly blinded Mickey. Reaching out, the man took 
Mickey's lower jaw in his hand. Mickey pulled away, but 
the man caught him again. I will not harm, you, Mickey. 
I have come to help you. 

Lost in his own little world, Mickey pushed a stamped 
tin car along the sidewalk in front of the box in which his 
family lived. The rear wheel supports scraped along the 
ground and left wavy white lines on the concrete. The 
wheels has long ago vanished, but Mickey didn't mind. In 
that vehicle, he saw himself and his sister and father and 
Rajani all driving off to a place where they could be happy. 
He did not hear the man walk up, but that came less 
because of his hearing loss from repeated ear infections 
than it did from the man's stealthy nature. Instead, Mickey 
felt his presence and looked up. The man's bald head 
eclipsed the sun, giving him a nimbus halo. Despite 
having to look up at the man and his having such a 
startling silhouette, Mickey saw he was small. Having met 
Rajani, though, he did not mistake a tiny physique for 
powerlessness. 
"Yii." 
"Yes, hello to you, too." The man's voice came softly, 
barely a whisper, yet Mickey heard it clearly above the 
roar of the crane piling more apartments onto the building. 
How are you today, Mickey? 
You can brain-talk! Mickey smiled openly, for a half-
second forgetting how such things had spawned revulsion 
and ridicule by others. 
I can indeed.The man squatted down, and the sun 
briefly blinded Mickey. Reaching out, the man took 
Mickey's lower jaw in his hand. Mickey pulled away, but 
the man caught him again. I will not harm, you, Mickey. 
I have come to help you. 


words. "Come with me." 
Mickey stood and took the man's hand. The fact that his 
flesh felt cool but dry did not strike Mickey as unusual. 
Smiling his broken smile, he walked off with the small man 
and after 10 paces they had left Flagstaff worlds behind. 



Rajani almost refused the ride from the ramshackle 
pickup truck that slowed and pulled off the road in a dust 
cloud. Most of the vehicles she'd seen in a similar condition 
had been burned-out hulks left beside I-17, and some 
of those had more parts than the truck stopping for her. 
Big and boxy, it was missing the right front wheel-well 
panel, and the rusty front bumper hung lopsided like a 
madman's grin. The grill might once have been a chromed 
grid, but enough pieces of it had vanished over the years 
to make it look like a crossword puzzle template. 
The light of the single working headlight pinned her in 
place, and she contemplated darting back into the brush 
at the edge of the road. She reached out with her mind and 
sensed no hostility from the two occupants of the vehicle 
and, in fact, caught a reverent joy from the one on the 
passenger side. 
The passenger door opened slowly. The old man 
climbed out, apparently stiff and sore. He turned back and 
looked at the younger man behind the wheel and said 
something to him in a tongue Rajani could not decipher. 
Holding on to the open door so he would not slip in the 
gravel beside the road, he came around and smiled at her. 
"Welcome. If you wish a ride, we will give you one." 
The opposite door opened, and Rajani instantly got a 
twin blast of concern and fear from the younger man 
getting out. She noticed that both of them wore their 
straight hair long, with the youth's jet black and the old 
man's steely gray. "Grandfather, stay away from her. She 
might be one of them." The young man reached into the 
truck to pull a shotgun from the rifle rack over the rear 
window. 
The old man frowned. "The young ones, they know 
nothing. Come with us, little sister." The old man looked 
back at his grandson. "Will, this is a great day. Do nothing 
to spoil it. Leave the gun there." 
Will shook his head but did not free the gun from the 
rack. "Picking up a hitchhiking gangbanger on a lonely 
road. I can't imagine what you would have done if I'd let 
you make this trip alone, Grandfather." 
Despite the younger man's reticence, the warmth and 
happiness being radiated by the older man drew Rajani 
forward. She did not flinch at the gentle touch of the older 


man's hand on her back as he guided her around the door 
and into the middle of the bench seat. She smiled as 
sweetly as she could at Will, and his frown lightened a bit, 
but he remained sullen as he pulled his door shut. His 
grandfather climbed into the cab, and Rajani found herself 
slightly uncomfortable on the crowded seat. 
Carefully avoiding her left knee, Will jammed the truck 
into gear and started them off. "We're heading to the 
reservation east of Phoenix. Okay if we drop you there?" 
Before she could reply, the old man patted her right 
hand. "We will take you wherever you need to go, little 
sister. I am He Whose Antics Are The Light in The Eye of 
the Raven." 
"Raven's eyes are both glowing tonight,"Will grumbled. 
"You may call me George, and this is my grandson, 
Will." 
The pure joy in the older Native American radiated out 
and stilled the apprehension given off by his grandson. "I 
am Rajani." 
"So, Rajani, what's your story?" Will jammed the truck 
into a higher gear. "Have to run from a drug bust in Flag?" 
She tried to think of a plausible story to offer them, but 
she knew that what had fooled children would not pass 
muster with these two. She glanced over at the older man, 
and once she looked in his eyes she knew she could safely 
tell him the truth. "My parents were born on another world, 
but I was born here. I was named Rajani after a Hindu 
goddess in honor of Dr. Chandra, my parents' best friend. 
I have been in a stasis shell for the past two decades in a 
secret research facility maintained by the government, 
and I am traveling to Phoenix to stop someone from falling 
into a trap being set by a monster from outside this 
dimension." 
The truck swerved a bit as Will hit the break and started 
to steer onto the shoulder. "You expect me to believe 
that?" 
"Keep driving, Will. We will not leave here," George 
smiled sagely. "We will do everything we can to help you, 
little sister." 
"Grandfather, she's nuts!" 
The older man's voice took on an edge. "Will, only 
weeks ago you were told that what I have to teach you has 
value. You yourself saw the storm and the creature 
forming above Phoenix. You know that happened, and 
after that you started your studies." 
"I know what I saw, Grandfather, but that's worlds away 
from a blond bimbo from Betelgeuse." Will's face flushed. 
"I'm sorry, miss, but I can't buy your story." 
Rajani sensed in Will a conflict that pitted himself and 
his self-image against his heritage and all the things his 
grandfather had tried to teach him over the years. Will 


wanted to be a man of the 21st century. He wanted to 
leave superstition and nonsense behind, but he kept 
experiencing things that suggested to him that his 
grandfather's ancient ways were still valid. A huge part of 
him wanted to be worthy of his grandfather's legacy, but 
the modern man laughed at his desire to master rituals 
and traditions that had been stripped of meaning by the 
real world. 
"Will, reach out with your heart." The older man 
reached around Rajani's shoulders and touched his left 
hand to Will's forehead. "See her with my eyes. Look 
beyond her surface, and see inside her." 
George gave Rajani's hand a squeeze and whispered 
conspiratorially to her. "Open yourself to him. Let him in." 
Rajani nodded and purposely pulled her defenses 
down. She sensed his probing. It came feebly, yet with 
enough substance that she knew he would be strong if he 
learned how to control his abilities. She sent confidence 
and praise back through the link they had established, 
which made Will smile for a second before he blanched 
and stared intently out the window. 
"He will learn, little sister. He will learn." George let a 
wheezy laugh spring melodically from his throat. "This 
person you are to warn, who is he?" 
Rajani shrugged. "I am uncertain, but...." She recalled 
the search drones and their check-pattern for people. "I 
think I want to find Coyote." 
Will stiffened and even George seemed to be momentarily 
sobered by her suggestion. Will's foot pressed down 
on the gas a bit further. "Coyote, did you say?" 
Rajani nodded. "Do you know him? He's in grave 
danger." 
George shook his head. "We know of him. He is a 
legend. Some say he is dead, and others say he has come 
back after he killed himself. He was instrumental in 
defeating the monster in Phoenix." 
"Fiddleback." 
"The Recluse." George smiled, and his eyes focused 
distantly. "An appropriate name for one who manipulates 
from afar." 
"So you can get me to Coyote?" 
The old man shook his head. "We do not know where 
he is." 
Rajani slumped down into the shell of her leather jacket. 
"Oh." 
George winked at her. "We do, however, know of 
someone who, rumor has it, knows him." 
Will looked over. "We do?" 
"Drive, Will. We are making a slight detour." The old 
man interlaced his fingers and bridged them outward, 
cracking his knuckles. "We may not be much in compari



son to Fiddleback, but if I can be a pebble in his shoe, I will 
be very happy." 
Rajani could not shake her feeling of unease as she and 
George walked down the dimly lit corridor on the 10th 
floor of Phoenix General. Will had parked at the base of the 
tower and let them out, but his grandfather refused to let 
him accompany them. "What I have to do is best done with 
only two." 
She'd not known what the old man meant, but as they 
approached the tower she sensed his aura changing. It 
dulled, then expanded and enfolded her when he took her 
hand. George smiled and marched boldly on toward the 
hospital. He hesitated until two EMTs caused the automatic 
doors to open, then he pushed on through into the 
crowded emergency-room lobby. 
Rajani watched in stunned silence as the Native American 
walked through the lines of bleeding and moaning 
patients without notice. He slipped around behind the 
admitting desk and quietly typed a name into the computer. 
Information came up over the screen, and he 
smiled. As the admitting clerk turned back toward her 
terminal, he picked up a pencil and dropped it, distracting 
her while he blanked the screen and retreated. 
Without saying a word, he led her over to a bank of 
elevators. As with the doors, he waited until the elevator 
opened to let passengers out, then he and Rajani entered 
the box. He hit the button marked 10, then let her hand go. 
The doors closed, and they began their ascent. 
"How did you do that? Did you make us invisible?" 
George shook his head and wheezed. "No, I made us 
improbable." 
Rajani frowned. "Improbable?" 
"All of them, guards, nurses, clerks and patients saw us. 
What I allowed them to see was an old Indian man walking 
hand-in-hand through the hospital well after visiting hours 
with an extraterrestrial fugitive being hunted by the government." 
He smiled as she blinked in shock. "Of course, 
such a thing is utterly improbable, and I increased their 
confidence in that conclusion. Because they knew they 
could not have, in fact, seen such a thing, and because at 
2 a.m., the mind begins to play tricks on them. They 
refused to believe it." 
The elevator's bell dinged, and the doors slid open. 
George started down the hallway, then took a turn around 
the nurses' station and headed off toward the northern 
wing. With her following closely and quietly, they walked 
down to Room 42 and, ignoring the 'No Admittance' sign, 
George opened the door. Glancing at the cardboard 
nameplate in the door bracket, Rajani trailed after him. 
An undercurrent of physical pain ran beneath the 
troubled sensation Rajani got from the large African



American lying in the bed. Twin IV bottles dripped liquids 
into him, and another tube appeared to be sucking fluid 
from his left lung. In the darkness, his black skin became 
an ebon sheet pulled tight across his face. An oxygen tube 
ran below his nose, but the ragged sound of his breathing 
sent a shiver down Rajani's spine. 
George's face focused down into a frown. He held his 
hands out as he approached the left side of the bed. They 
moved fluidly over the man's body, hovering an inch or so 
above him except where they dipped toward his chest. 
The Native American grunted, then shook his head. "He 
should be mending, but his will to live is ebbing." 
The man's eyes fluttered open. "Who?" he croaked 
hoarsely. 
Rajani sent out waves of reassurance as she approached 
the right side of his bed. "We have come a long 
way. I am told you know Coyote." 
The big man nodded weakly. "Coyote." He snorted out 
a breath, and Rajani caught a flash of mental anguish. 
Images of a beautiful woman crystallized in her brain, then 
dissolved in blood. 
Rajani stared at him, confused. "Coyote had your wife 
killed?" 
"No, no." The man swallowed hard. "He couldn't 
prevent it. They only told me two days ago. Didn't know." 
"I need Coyote's help, Mr. Garret!." Rajani gently 
grasped the fingers of his massive right hand. "Coyote is 
in grave danger from Fiddleback." 
Something sparked in Garrett's dark eyes. "Fiddleback? 
Coyote is not here." 
"I need to find him. Can you tell me where?" 
Garrett shook his head. "There are people you need to 
meet, but I can't take you." 
Rajani frowned. "Why not?" 
"Little sister, his wounds are too grave." George lifted 
up the edge of the sheet and Rajani saw darkness tinging 
the outline of the tube in the man's chest, "It will be months 
before he goes anywhere." 
"We don't have months," Rajani shot back. 
"You don't have minutes," snarled a young, blond punk 
pushing the door open. He and a confederate slid through 
the narrow opening and allowed the door to close behind 
them. Each wore dark boots and gray jodhpurs with 
suspenders. The leader carried a submachinegun of a 
particularly compact and ugly look, while the woman 
behind him held up a blocky automatic pistol with a thick 
cylinder grafted on to the muzzle. 
She purred like a cat. "Looks like a three-for-one, Karl." 
"Warriors," Hal whispered and slumped down in his 
bed. Rajani sensed his desire to fight, but hopelessness 
overwhelmed him. 


"That's right, Garrett. We're here to finish the job. 
Waited a bit for the heat to come off." 
Rajani smiled at Karl as she caught the image of a 
hulking man swim through his mind. "And for Mr. Garrett 
to be left helpless and alone." 
"Save it, bitch. Defiance won't even make it into your 
epitaph." The gunman stepped back from the foot of the 
bed and waved his female companion forward. "Heidi, the 
honor is yours." 
The blond woman made a great show of mechanically 
pulling the slide on the pistol back, then letting it pop 
forward. The sound made Rajani shudder and she sensed 
a bit of pleasure from the woman at her reaction. Rajani 
glanced over at George to see if he had picked up the 
same sensation, but his eyes had glazed over, and Rajani 
felt nothing at all from him. 
"Hal Garrett, you have been sentenced to death by the 
Warriors of the Aryan World Alliance." She extended her 
right arm and slowly let her forearm drop down so the gun 
pointed at Hal's head. "You are guilty of crimes against the 
Aryan nation, and you will pay for your treason. Your coconspirators 
will die with you." 
As Rajani saw the image of a bullet congealing in the 
woman's mind, she lunged toward the foot of the bed. The 
fingertips of her right hand slapped the silencer upward as 
the girl tugged on the trigger. Feathers flew as the bullet 
popped through the pillow. 
Heidi snarled and tried to bring the gun to bear on 
Rajani, but she'd moved inside the larger woman's striking 
range. Rajani drew her right hand back, then shot it 
forward and hammered the woman's sternum. Coughing 
out a gasp, Heidi reeled back as Karl tried to bring his gun 
up. 
Suddenly, a huge hole exploded in the door. Metal and 
splinters formed a cloud that blasted into the two white 
supremists. A yellowish tongue of flame stabbed through 
the hole, and the strobe light froze Karl in place as the 
shotgun pellets opened his chest. Heidi, who had caught 
most of the first load, smashed into the far wall and slid to 
the floor as if her bones had become as fluid as the blood 
leaking from her. Karl fell over her, and his gun clattered 
to the floor. 
The shotgun held to cover the two racists, Will kicked 
the door open. "Saw them enter and pay off a guard. I 
followed." He looked at his grandfather. "I saw them with 
your eyes, Grandfather. Thank God the rest of you were 
clear." 
Garrett grabbed Rajani's sleeve with renewed strength. 
"Go to The Pit. Speak with Bat. He'll help you. Go!" 
"Let's go. They had backup downstairs." Will kicked 
the pistol out of Heidi's hand. "At least two more." 


Rajani shook her head. "We can't leave you here. They 
will come and find you and kill you." 
"I don't have much choice." Garrett's body started to 
tremble from the exertion. "Take the guns and get out of 
here." 
"No!" 
Rajani's shout startled all three men. She plucked the 
IV needles from Garrett's arm and hand, then pointed at 
the tube in his chest. "Pull it." 
Will shook his head. "You are nuts!" 
She looked up at George. "You trust me. Pull it." 
The old man nodded solemnly. "She knows what she 
is doing." 
Rajani turned and pulled both her sleeves up. She took 
Garrett's head in her hands and pressed both thumbs 
gently into the hollow of bone where his brows met. Her 
fingers splayed out along the sides of his head, and her 
palms pressed against his cheeks. Garrett stared up at her 
from the space between her thumbs and forefingers. 
"Trust me, Hal Garrett. Work with me." 
The man nodded, then winced as George eased the 
tube out of his chest. 
"Clear." 
Rajani stared into Hal's eyes and projected herself 
down through them. She moved into his mind and 
sought what she had found in Mickey's father's mind. 
She worked in toward where his self-conception existed 
and found a scarecrow-thin doll with three gaping 
holes in it. Its limbssave the paralyzed left leghung 
limply and flapped in an unfelt breeze. The fingers of 
his right hand swung back and forth barely above a 
shiny black coffin. 
You know better than that, Hal Garrett. You did not kill 
your wife. There was nothing you could do. 
The scarecrow's burlap face remained slack. I could 
have done something.. I could have gone away and made 
her safe. 

Rajani shook her head. "We can't leave you here. They 
will come and find you and kill you." 
"I don't have much choice." Garrett's body started to 
tremble from the exertion. "Take the guns and get out of 
here." 
"No!" 
Rajani's shout startled all three men. She plucked the 
IV needles from Garrett's arm and hand, then pointed at 
the tube in his chest. "Pull it." 
Will shook his head. "You are nuts!" 
She looked up at George. "You trust me. Pull it." 
The old man nodded solemnly. "She knows what she 
is doing." 
Rajani turned and pulled both her sleeves up. She took 
Garrett's head in her hands and pressed both thumbs 
gently into the hollow of bone where his brows met. Her 
fingers splayed out along the sides of his head, and her 
palms pressed against his cheeks. Garrett stared up at her 
from the space between her thumbs and forefingers. 
"Trust me, Hal Garrett. Work with me." 
The man nodded, then winced as George eased the 
tube out of his chest. 
"Clear." 
Rajani stared into Hal's eyes and projected herself 
down through them. She moved into his mind and 
sought what she had found in Mickey's father's mind. 
She worked in toward where his self-conception existed 
and found a scarecrow-thin doll with three gaping 
holes in it. Its limbssave the paralyzed left leghung 
limply and flapped in an unfelt breeze. The fingers of 
his right hand swung back and forth barely above a 
shiny black coffin. 
You know better than that, Hal Garrett. You did not kill 
your wife. There was nothing you could do. 
The scarecrow's burlap face remained slack. I could 
have done something.. I could have gone away and made 
her safe. 


pended upon the other, and all had come from common 
stock. They fought together to maintain life, but Rajani 
began to work on them so they would actively pursue life. 
She reached down into the neurons that made up Hal 
Garrett's brain and sent a trickle of electrical energy into 
certain cells. They dutifully passed the stimulation on 
down the line, spurring glands to produce hormones. 
Those hormones flooded through the body, triggering 
other cells to react. Dormant genes snapped on for a 
second or two, and cells began manufacturing proteins. 
These coded messages then drifted elsewhere in the body 
to prompt other actions. 
In an instant, the community of cells that was Hal 
Garrett went to battle stations. Cells at the sites of his 
wounds went into near-cancerous rates of division, multiplying 
wildly to seal the two holes in his lungs and the one 
in his stomach. Bone marrow pumped out new cells to 
help oxygenate the blood, while leukocytes and macrophages 
began hunting in packs for lingering bits of 
infection. His body began to metabolize what little fat he 
had left and fed the mitochondria everything they needed 
to fill him with energy. 
Rajani pulled herself back into her own skull and 
released Garrett's head. It did not fall back on the pillow 
the way she would have expected. Instead, his eyes 
tightened and the muscles in his neck bulged to hold it up 
in defiance of gravity. 
"Thank you." Hal threw the sheet back from the bed. 
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed toward George, 
he clutched at the railing to steady himself. He massaged 
his left leg for a moment, then pointed toward the chest of 
drawers beside the door. "My clothes should be in there." 
Will shivered. "You can't leave the hospital." 
Hal sucked at the droplet of blood on the back of his 
hand. "Son, lots of people come into hospitals to die. I've 
just decided I'm not one of them. Now, unless you're really 
looking forward to a firefight with the other Warriors," Hal 
said slipping an arm over George's shoulder, "get me 
some clothes so my butt isn't hanging out, and we can 
blow this pop stand." 
Rajani smiled up at the big man. "And find Coyote to 
warn him." 
Hal winked at her. "And find Coyote to warn him." 

pended upon the other, and all had come from common 
stock. They fought together to maintain life, but Rajani 
began to work on them so they would actively pursue life. 
She reached down into the neurons that made up Hal 
Garrett's brain and sent a trickle of electrical energy into 
certain cells. They dutifully passed the stimulation on 
down the line, spurring glands to produce hormones. 
Those hormones flooded through the body, triggering 
other cells to react. Dormant genes snapped on for a 
second or two, and cells began manufacturing proteins. 
These coded messages then drifted elsewhere in the body 
to prompt other actions. 
In an instant, the community of cells that was Hal 
Garrett went to battle stations. Cells at the sites of his 
wounds went into near-cancerous rates of division, multiplying 
wildly to seal the two holes in his lungs and the one 
in his stomach. Bone marrow pumped out new cells to 
help oxygenate the blood, while leukocytes and macrophages 
began hunting in packs for lingering bits of 
infection. His body began to metabolize what little fat he 
had left and fed the mitochondria everything they needed 
to fill him with energy. 
Rajani pulled herself back into her own skull and 
released Garrett's head. It did not fall back on the pillow 
the way she would have expected. Instead, his eyes 
tightened and the muscles in his neck bulged to hold it up 
in defiance of gravity. 
"Thank you." Hal threw the sheet back from the bed. 
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed toward George, 
he clutched at the railing to steady himself. He massaged 
his left leg for a moment, then pointed toward the chest of 
drawers beside the door. "My clothes should be in there." 
Will shivered. "You can't leave the hospital." 
Hal sucked at the droplet of blood on the back of his 
hand. "Son, lots of people come into hospitals to die. I've 
just decided I'm not one of them. Now, unless you're really 
looking forward to a firefight with the other Warriors," Hal 
said slipping an arm over George's shoulder, "get me 
some clothes so my butt isn't hanging out, and we can 
blow this pop stand." 
Rajani smiled up at the big man. "And find Coyote to 
warn him." 
Hal winked at her. "And find Coyote to warn him." 
Coyote caught Mong's puzzled look out of the corner of 
his eye. Ignoring it, he cinched the Kevlar vest tight to his 
chest and pulled a dark T-shirt over it. He slipped his left 
arm through the loop on the Bianchi shoulder holster, then 


inserted his right arm through the other side and settled 
the Wildey Wolf in place on his left flank. He readjusted his 
web belt and the holstered Colt Kraits at each hip, then 
flexed his legs and decided the boots were laced tight 
enough. 
Mong shook his head. "For this first excursion into 
dimension walking, I want you to be comfortable." 
Coyote half-grinned. "Without this hardware, I would be 
most uncomfortable. I know there is danger out there, and 
I want to be prepared. More importantly, though, I'm likely 
to dimension walk wearing this much or more gear, so I 
might as well learn how to do it with this stuff on as not." 
"This is a good point, Kyi-can, and one I will concede 
to you." The monk pointed to a wooden bench at the foot 
of Coyote's bed. "Please, be seated. Begin your breathing 
exercises. Begin to clear your mind." 
Coyote did as he was bidden. Sitting, he ignored the 
clack of spare clips in the thigh pockets of his fatigues and 
concentrated on maintaining a good posture. He forced 
his mind to forget the itching sensation at the back of his 
head where Mong had stitched his scalp. Breathing 
regularly and slowly to an internal metronome, he closed 
his eyes and began to calm and control his body. 
"Your first venture out, Kyi-can, will capitalize on what 
you have seen and experienced in your meditations on the 
void. Your previous masters crafted you in a manner that 
has made you most adept at learning these skills. Mi-mayin 
had rejected his identities, but you never really had 
one. You were without labels and tags so you could 
assume them as you needed them. Even your lack of 
knowledge about your predecessor as Kyi-can is in 
keeping with this." 
Coyote nodded slowly as Mong's voice grew distant. I 
am. With that thought, he crystallized his core and cast off 
all but the last of his links with the reality that he had been 
born into. "Proceed." 
"The first place you will go is a proto-dimension. It is not 
far from here, so we are able to protect it the way we 
protect Kanggenpo." Coyote heard a swish of robes that 
suggested to him that Mong had seated himself on the 
floor. This is a dimension that we use to enter and exit the 
monastery. If it is necessary, the proto-dimension can be 
isolated and even contracted until nothing can exist in it." 
The dimensional equivalent of an airlock?" Coyote 
smiled, then went back to breathing regularly. 
"Quite so. Now clear your mind and fill it with an image 
of a place that is neither light nor dark, warm nor cold, it 
is not sharp, nor is it entirely soft. It is safe and welcoming. 
When you find it, define it and move toward it." 
Sounds like the description of a womb. Coyote realized 
this characterization was not entirely inappropriate, so he 


latched onto it and wove it into the place he was imagining. 
As the concept completed itself in his mind, he felt a 
substance to it that he had not experienced before. He 
forced himself to stand and drift toward that substance, 
imbuing it with a gravity that pulled him in as he moved 
toward it. 
Something in his mind told him that his next step would 
carry him into the stone wall but, as his hand reached out 
to brace him, it encountered nothing. He opened his eyes 
and found himself standing in a smoky-gray world with 
dry air that smelled of long dead flowers. He moved his 
right hand up and around in a figure eight that set the mist 
swirling, but the spirals he created vanished by the time 
they got six feet away from him. 
"You have done very well, Kyi-can." Mong materialized 
out of the mist, his red robes the brightest color in the 
small, spherical dimension. "You reached this place 
quickly and without difficulty." 
The tall man accepted the praise with a nod, then 
frowned. "I know one must crawl before he can walk, but 
this place has less definition and substance than the 
proto-dimension I first encountered outside Sedona in 
Arizona. There we had color and distance. This feels like 
being swaddled in gray cotton." 
"You must understand, Kyi-can, how proto-dimensions 
work. Imagine, if you will, that all the various 
dimensions are books shelved in an infinite library. A 
proto-dimension is a worm's burrowing through several 
volumes. This proto-dimension, for example, gives us 
access to several of the dimensions from which we 
harvest the staples that sustain Kanggenpo." 
As Mong spoke, Coyote saw several red-robed monks 
move through the swirling mist and vanish. "Then to stay 
with your library analogy, I could travel to a dimension 
directly if I knew where it was indexed in the library?" 
"Precisely." The monk gave him a pleased smile. "The 
index consists of a number of factors, many of them tactile 
and sensual more than quantifiable. Still, there are some 
creatures that have been able to define dimensions with 
a coordinate system that makes them accessible to their 
machinery." 
"I know. Crowley possesses a device that was able to 
send us to a dimension he called Plutonia. It was populated 
with creatures that reminded me of Fiddleback." 
The monk held his left hand up and circled it quickly. 
"Please, be careful. Here we are not as well warded as we 
are in Kanggenpo itself. It is possible for your thoughts to 
slip out and alert enemies." 
"I don't understand." 
"In the same way that thinking about a place enables 
you to find it and move to it, it is possible that something 


could track back along that link." 
"The mountain coming to Mohammed." 
"Precisely." 
Coyote nodded. "It would be possible, though, to travel 
to any dimension provided I could define it." 
"The journey could be difficult, but, yes, it is possible." 
Mong's head came up and he looked a bit distracted. "Did 
you have a particular destination in mind?" 
Coyote dropped his hand to the Colt Krait on his right 
hip. "Last time we fought on my home turf. I think taking 
the war to Fiddleback would be a good thing." 
There is nothing good about going there!" Mong spun 
and caught a bleeding monk as the man reeled into the 
proto-dimension. Mong's eyes blazed scarlet, sending a 
red pulse of power straight down into the center of the 
ground. The mist immediately started to spiral down into 
its wake like water draining from a tub. "Go, quickly, run!" 
Coyote saw Mong toss the monk down into the widening 
hole and knew he should follow. At the same time the 
elder monk dashed to his left and disappeared through a 
dark gash in the dimensional wall. Without a second 
thought, Coyote leaped over the growing hole in the floor 
and dove through the shrinking black slit. 
He completed a shoulder roll and came up with a Krait 
in his right hand. His thumb snapped the selector lever off 
safe as a spark of red from Mong's eyes blossomed into 
a fireflower on the roaring creature to Coyote's right. The 
fire's light turned the creature's dun fur coppery and filled 
the night with bitter, cloying smoke. The creature screamed 
and broke off its charging attack, but as it turned away, 
Coyote saw the fire burn all the way through to its spine, 
and the monster collapsed in a heap of limbs. 
"What was that?" Coyote crouched down in the brush 
and watched the thing burn. At least 12 feet in length, from 
bandy lower legs to the top of its head, the monster's 
general size and pelt reminded him of the mythical 
Bigfoot. At the same time, this creature had eight limbs 
and only one eye. An auxiliary set of legs posted down 
from the upper part of the double pelvis. A powerful set of 
arms hung down from broad shoulders, then another pair 
of weaker arms sprouted from a narrower set of shoulders. 
While clearly not as strong as the lower arms, they were 
set closer to the face and more suited to tasks that required 
finesse instead of strength. 
"It is probably the source of yeti legends." Mong 
dropped to one knee next to the broken body of a monk. 
He pressed his fingers to the man's neck, then shook his 
head. "He is dead." 
"What about the other one? There were three of them." 
Mong shook his head again. "The gorfash are meat-
eaters, and there are more of them out there." Mong 


looked up at the starry sky and apparently made order out 
of stellar chaos. "Normally, their bands do not wander in 
this area until well after the harvesting season." 
Coyote looked down and saw that the brush came in 
neat rows. Huge gourds hung from lush vines and, 
breathing in, he recognized the faint scent of whatever had 
been a key component of his meals over the last week. 
"Can't say I like the idea of dying to defend squash. Shall 
we go after your other monk?" 
Mong hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "No, 
your guns would be useless against them." 
The tall man holstered the Krait and stood. He drew the 
brushed steel pistol from his shoulder holster and took it 
off safe. "The Kraits are only 10mm, but this is a .457 
Wildey Magnum. The bullets go fast and make big holes. 
Which way?" 
"No, Kyi-can, we need to get Trinle here back to 
Kanggenpo." Mong pulled at the dead man's arm, then 
recoiled when it came off in his hands. 
Before Coyote could ask the monk why he was trying 
to hold him back, a scream pierced the night. He turned 
to face the sound and sprinted off toward it. Dry saw-blade 
grasses rustled as they tore at his clothes. Coyote raised 
his left hand to protect his eyes, then dropped down as he 
scrambled up a tall, steep hillside. The grasses sliced the 
skin on his arms and shoulders, but he crested the hill 
without noticing the pain. 
Below him, in a valley drenched by the light of a blood-
red moon, he saw a dozen of the gorfash whooping and 
dancing around in a circle. The hapless monk trapped in 
their midst darted back and forth, trying to escape. Casual 
cuffs spun him to the ground, then monsters leaned in and 
bellowed at him. They flashed enormous fangs and raked 
his clothes away with their claws. Naked and bleeding, he 
huddled in a fetal position on the grassy ground. 
Coyote's eyes narrowed. Twenty-five meters, a dozen 
targets. Two are juvenile and, judging from the breasts 
and swollen bellies, four are female. Six are males massing 
400 pounds at the least. One bullet, maybe two. He 
reached down into his left thigh pocket and pulled out two 
spare clips for the Wildey. How fast can one of these cross 
this distance? 

looked up at the starry sky and apparently made order out 
of stellar chaos. "Normally, their bands do not wander in 
this area until well after the harvesting season." 
Coyote looked down and saw that the brush came in 
neat rows. Huge gourds hung from lush vines and, 
breathing in, he recognized the faint scent of whatever had 
been a key component of his meals over the last week. 
"Can't say I like the idea of dying to defend squash. Shall 
we go after your other monk?" 
Mong hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "No, 
your guns would be useless against them." 
The tall man holstered the Krait and stood. He drew the 
brushed steel pistol from his shoulder holster and took it 
off safe. "The Kraits are only 10mm, but this is a .457 
Wildey Magnum. The bullets go fast and make big holes. 
Which way?" 
"No, Kyi-can, we need to get Trinle here back to 
Kanggenpo." Mong pulled at the dead man's arm, then 
recoiled when it came off in his hands. 
Before Coyote could ask the monk why he was trying 
to hold him back, a scream pierced the night. He turned 
to face the sound and sprinted off toward it. Dry saw-blade 
grasses rustled as they tore at his clothes. Coyote raised 
his left hand to protect his eyes, then dropped down as he 
scrambled up a tall, steep hillside. The grasses sliced the 
skin on his arms and shoulders, but he crested the hill 
without noticing the pain. 
Below him, in a valley drenched by the light of a blood-
red moon, he saw a dozen of the gorfash whooping and 
dancing around in a circle. The hapless monk trapped in 
their midst darted back and forth, trying to escape. Casual 
cuffs spun him to the ground, then monsters leaned in and 
bellowed at him. They flashed enormous fangs and raked 
his clothes away with their claws. Naked and bleeding, he 
huddled in a fetal position on the grassy ground. 
Coyote's eyes narrowed. Twenty-five meters, a dozen 
targets. Two are juvenile and, judging from the breasts 
and swollen bellies, four are female. Six are males massing 
400 pounds at the least. One bullet, maybe two. He 
reached down into his left thigh pocket and pulled out two 
spare clips for the Wildey. How fast can one of these cross 
this distance? 


perfect target. The third bullet caught it right at the bridge 
of the nose, snapping its head back. The monster stumbled 
forward, dead before it hit the ground, with its brains 
sprayed back behind it. Coyote kept the gun on it for a 
second in case it rose again, then brought it around as the 
rest of the troop roared in at him. 

perfect target. The third bullet caught it right at the bridge 
of the nose, snapping its head back. The monster stumbled 
forward, dead before it hit the ground, with its brains 
sprayed back behind it. Coyote kept the gun on it for a 
second in case it rose again, then brought it around as the 
rest of the troop roared in at him. 

I'm in too deep. 
Suddenly it hit him. They're cyclopses! 
As the rushing gorfash wall descended on him, he 
tucked himself into a ball and rolled back off the hill. He 
dropped through the air, then hit on his shoulders and 
continued to roll down the hill. He immediately splayed his 
arms out and grabbed on to whatever he could find to stop 
his tumble. Razor-edge grass filled his left hand and 
somehow held strongly enough to slew him around to the 
left and a resting place 
Above him, the gorfash's momentum carried them out 
into the air. Their battle roars shifted tenor to screams of 
terror as they spun out of control through the air. Two of 
them collided in mid-air, then whirled apart. Crashes, 
crunches and whimpered shrieks filled the night as the 
creatures hit the ground. 
Only one of the gorfash seemed unpanicked by the 
surprise, and he flew through the darkness like a creature 
born to it. He held his arms and legs wide, both to cut his 
speed and prepare for landing. He let his body begin to 
rotate forward, and Coyote saw him orient himself to 
absorb the shock of the landing on his strong arms and 
smaller set of muscular legs. 
The gorfash hit solidly off to Coyote's right and a little 
below his position on the hill. He heard scrambling 


through the brush, then saw the four-armed silhouette rise 
up at the edge of the grassy circle where he'd landed. The 
gorfash bellowed out a challenge and Coyote chuckled as 
he raised the Wildey. 
The gorfash charged at the same instant Coyote saw 
the Wildey's slide was locked back in the open position. 
Empty! He pulled his feet up and rolled away from the line 
of the creature's attack, but he knew it was too late. 
Turning back around to face the monster, his left hand 
clawing for the Kraft holstered on that hip, Coyote steeled 
himself for death. 
Something intervened. Two hands grasped him around 
the ribs from behind and tossed him to the right. Flying 
through the darkness, Coyote heard the dry whisper of 
something moving very fast through the air, then a thick, 
wet, hollow thunk. The gorfash's bellowing died in a 
gurgle, then Coyote heard a heavy crunch as the monster 
hit the ground. 
Coyote tucked himself into a ball to roll off the energy 
of his fall. He set himself into a crouch and returned the 
Wildey to its holster. Pulling one Krait, he trained it on the 
dark outline of the gorfash that had almost killed him, then 
slowly closed with it. The musky scent mixed with the 
sweet odor of blood turned his stomach, but he kept 
moving in closer. 
He stepped over the lower end of its body and saw it was 
lying face down. Halfway up on its right side, beneath the 
lower armpit, a ragged wound ran from spine to flank. 
Dropping to one knee beside the dead creature, Coyote 
shifted the Krait to his left hand and probed the wound with 
his right. That's clean through. Cut the spine and splintered 
some ribs. Got lung and probably heartthis thing 
had to have a huge heart, maybe more than one. 
He ran his fingers through the thick pelt. With this fur to 
absorb some of the impact and the size of the creature, it 
would take something like a poleax to do this much 
damage. Coyote's eyes narrowed. A poleax or a naginata. 
Whoor whatwas out here? 
Coyote's pistol came up as Mong broke through the 
brush. "Kyi-can, are you hurt?" 
"Marei. I escaped injury. You?" 
"I am fine. Come, we must go." Mong waved him 
forward urgently. "There are things that may track us from 
this place. Much power was used here tonight." 
Coyote dimly recalled Crowley having made a similar 
statement after another dimensional encounter. "Too 
much power or too much violence?" 
"Both. And there are things that are attracted by both. 
Come." Mong reached out and grabbed his left wrist. A 
searing yellow line split the landscape like a tear in a movie 
screen. Mong yanked him through it, and Coyote caught 


a brief glimpse of the gray proto-dimension a second 
before both of them dropped to their feet on the floor of his 
monastery chamber. 
Mong released him. "For what you did today, I thank 
you. Two monks will live." 
Coyote nodded his head. "There was no real option for 
me." 
"Yes there was." Mong's face tightened. "You could 
have, should have, obeyed me. You are good at traveling 
through dimensions and could be, in fact, good enough to 
mount an assault on Fiddleback's home, but not yet. Here 
you know the rules, so your impulses are often correct and 
even meritorious. Away from here, though, they can get 
you killed." 
Coyote waited five minutes after Mong left, then headed 
straight for the training room. He found it empty, but this 
did not surprise him at all. Employing the pocket flashlight 
that he had brought with him to Tibet, he descended the 
stairs, then swept it along the weapons' walls. As he got 
to the pole weapons section he smiled when he saw a 
naginata with a new haft. 
Above it hung an older weapon of a similar design. He 
pulled it down and inspected the long, sharp blade. 
Despite its obvious antiquity, it had no nicks in it. It looked 
clean, and he wished he had access to the equipment in 
the secret room of his home in Phoenix. "A little chemical 
spray and a blacklight and we'd see if you've been 
blooded." 
He played the light over the blade again, then paid 
special attention to the guard on it. There, deep in where 
the blade had been joined to the haft, he saw a piece of a 
thick fiber. Again he wished for equipment he didn't have 
with him, but this time he wanted it just to confirm what he 
already knew. 
That's from the gorfash' s hide. He returned the naginata 
to its place on the wall and turned out his light. The Yidam 
I fought in here tried to kill me and it used a naginata. 
Something, using a naginata, saved me tonight in 
gorfashland. Why the sudden reversal? Coyote shrugged 
at his own question. And what will it do next time? 

a brief glimpse of the gray proto-dimension a second 
before both of them dropped to their feet on the floor of his 
monastery chamber. 
Mong released him. "For what you did today, I thank 
you. Two monks will live." 
Coyote nodded his head. "There was no real option for 
me." 
"Yes there was." Mong's face tightened. "You could 
have, should have, obeyed me. You are good at traveling 
through dimensions and could be, in fact, good enough to 
mount an assault on Fiddleback's home, but not yet. Here 
you know the rules, so your impulses are often correct and 
even meritorious. Away from here, though, they can get 
you killed." 
Coyote waited five minutes after Mong left, then headed 
straight for the training room. He found it empty, but this 
did not surprise him at all. Employing the pocket flashlight 
that he had brought with him to Tibet, he descended the 
stairs, then swept it along the weapons' walls. As he got 
to the pole weapons section he smiled when he saw a 
naginata with a new haft. 
Above it hung an older weapon of a similar design. He 
pulled it down and inspected the long, sharp blade. 
Despite its obvious antiquity, it had no nicks in it. It looked 
clean, and he wished he had access to the equipment in 
the secret room of his home in Phoenix. "A little chemical 
spray and a blacklight and we'd see if you've been 
blooded." 
He played the light over the blade again, then paid 
special attention to the guard on it. There, deep in where 
the blade had been joined to the haft, he saw a piece of a 
thick fiber. Again he wished for equipment he didn't have 
with him, but this time he wanted it just to confirm what he 
already knew. 
That's from the gorfash' s hide. He returned the naginata 
to its place on the wall and turned out his light. The Yidam 
I fought in here tried to kill me and it used a naginata. 
Something, using a naginata, saved me tonight in 
gorfashland. Why the sudden reversal? Coyote shrugged 
at his own question. And what will it do next time? 
Straightening his tie, Sinclair MacNeal approached the 
secretary. He tugged at the left sleeve of his jacket to make 
sure it hid the wrist recorder Lilith had finally gotten to him. 
Smiling, he stopped in front of the desk. "Sinclair MacNeal 
to see Ken Martin." 
The brown-haired secretary looked up and pursed his 
lips. "Do you have an appointment?" 


"No. Just tell Mr. Martin I'm here. This will only take a 
minute." 
The slender man shook his head. "No appointment, no 
visit. Sorry. That's policy." 
Sin sighed. "Mr. Martin will vary his policy for me. Trust 
me." 
"I have scars from the last time I trusted someone, Mr. 
MacNeal." The secretary glanced down at his appointment 
book. "Besides, the policy is Dutch Allied Chemicals' 
policy, not Mr. Martin's. I can get you in a week from 
Tuesday." 

"No. Just tell Mr. Martin I'm here. This will only take a 
minute." 
The slender man shook his head. "No appointment, no 
visit. Sorry. That's policy." 
Sin sighed. "Mr. Martin will vary his policy for me. Trust 
me." 
"I have scars from the last time I trusted someone, Mr. 
MacNeal." The secretary glanced down at his appointment 
book. "Besides, the policy is Dutch Allied Chemicals' 
policy, not Mr. Martin's. I can get you in a week from 
Tuesday." 


haze, but there was some variation there. From between 
several buildings, Sin saw hints of the green preserve 
surrounding the emperor's palace. Likewise, some blue 
ocean peeked up from the bay and the cloudy haze 
occasionally parted to let other glimpses of blue through. 
"Hey, buddy, you studied hard to get ahead. When we 
brought you on as a security accountant, I knew you were 
destined for better things." Sin broke their grip and 
dropped himself into the chair in front of Kip's desk. "They 
working you hard?" 
Kip shrugged somewhat wearily. "Usual 7 to 7 drag." 
"They have you working Japanese hours?" 
"Sort of. I get an hour for lunch, and I don't have to come 
in on Saturday." Kip smiled. "Other guys head out to the 
links, I take a fishing charter out." 
Sin frowned. "I'd a thought you'd own your own boat 
now." 
"You know what they say: A boat is a hole in the water 
into which you throw money." Kip's mood downshifted 
from jovial to neutral. "Had one for a while, actually, it was 
a steal, but I lost it." 
"What happened?" 
The man's eyes focused on where his hands rested in 
his lap. "I don't know. I was out and hooked something. It 
was big, really big." He looked up but didn't focus his eyes 
on Sin. "I guess it was also pissed. I woke up about a week 
later when they wheeled me out of an intensive-care unit. 
Don't fish outside the harbor much now." 
"That's bad news. How's Susan?" 
Kip's face fell a bit further. "She ran off with the intern 
who treated me." 
"That's bad." Resting his elbows on his knees, Sin 
leaned forward. "You should have let me know, bud." 
"What could you have done about it, Sin? Besides, it 
wasn't her fault. When she married me, I was a 10 to 2 
American accountant making decent bucks. The move 
here allowed her to see a lot of the world, but not much of 
me. We grew apart" 
I never guessed his life was such a mess. "I don't think 
I'm going to ask anything more because I've got one last 
strike before I'm out." 
Kip's smile returned and his mood lightened. "Hey, no 
blood, no foul, my friend. I met my present wife, Miko, 
through an executive matching service here. She's native-
born and grew up in a traditional family. She loves my 
ass and doesn't mind the long hours I put in. Every night 
it's a good meal, hot tub, massage and lights out." He 
patted his belly. "The living don't get much better than 
this." 
"Great, man, really great." Sin leaned back with a 
genuine smile on his face. "Nobody deserves better than 


you." 
"Thanks." Kip leaned forward conspiratorially. "So, 
what are you doing in Japan? I heard a rumor that you 
were seen at a party in Kimpunshima a week ago. I tried 
to check up on you to see if it was true, but the lead on the 
flight attendant they said you were with fell through. It's 
like she dropped off the edge of the Earth. Same with you." 
"I'm here, Kip, in the flesh. I'm working for Lorica 
Industries. They hired me on as a consultant in all sorts of 
things. Right now, the new CEOeveryone calls him 
Mikie 'cept to his faceis thinking of buying a chunk of 
Kimpunshima. He's sent me over to figure out the lay of 
the land. He wants to know how much it's changed since 
I was here. He wants me to get current with everything our 
people will run into here." 
"Tall order." 
"True enough, but I've got an expense account that will 
let me reach to the very top." Sin winked at his friend. "I've 
got to cover everything from the hottest and most chic 
restaurants to, I don't know, this Galbro stuff that was 
being talked about at the party. I figured I could use 
another opinion, and I value yours." 
Kip leaned back and brought his hands together in a 
gesture Sin recognized from the past. Something is 
bothering him. "Spill it, Kip." 
"I'll be happy to snarf down as much food as you want 
to point in my direction, my friend, and Lorica will find that 
I know some truly exotic places to while away your time 
and their money." 
"But?" 
Kip frowned. "I'd leave the Galbro Institute alone. 
They're weird people, and they're into very strange stuff." 
"What are you talking about?" 
Kip pointed off toward the closed door and the secretary 
beyond it. "Before Mr. Congeniality out there, I had a real 
secretary. Janny Pigot was her name. Really efficient and 
had a smashing personality. Wasn't quite the looker she 
wanted to bestill had scars from childhood acnebut 
she was great. I would have dated her after Susan left, but 
DAC doesn't allow that and, quite frankly, I valued her 
more as my secretary. 
"Anyway, she accepts an invitation to one of the Galbro 
weekend retreats in their center here. She was all excited 
about it and on Monday she returned a bit exhausted, but 
just brimming full of stuff. She and I normally chatted over 
coffee in the morning, and that day I couldn't get her to 
shut up. It was all sorts of crazy stuff, and I knew it was 
trouble right away." 
Sin frowned. "What kind of crazy stuff?" 
"Real crazy stuff, Sin." Kip opened his hands in a sign 
of disbelief. "I can't remember all of it, but in the middle she 


dropped a bombshell: My boat had been destroyed 
because I'd hooked a gray starship on a covert mission to 
the center at the bottom of the ocean. She told me that 
good aliens had rescued me and placed me on the shore 
amid the wreckage of my boat." 
Sin laughed. "And you don't believe her?" 
Kip swung his right leg up onto his desk and pulled up 
the pant leg. "I dunno. If you ever see an alien that can do 
this, let me know." Yanking down his black sock, Kip 
exposed a puckered circular wound on his leg. 
"Sucker mark. Looks like a squid tried to hitch a ride." 
"Big squid. My boat was a 30-footer and my hip was 
dislocated." He pulled his sock back up, lowered his pant 
leg and pulled his foot off the desk. "Those facts didn't 
dissuade Janny. She went back for more, and back and 
back. Then weird things started happening, like files going 
missing for a day or two and copier counts not matching 
the numbers of copies ordered. Little stuff, pilfering, you 
know." 
Sin nodded. "You think she was turning information 
over to these people?" 
"No, but I think she was working on collecting evidence 
to convince me they were right. She started wandering 
around in her own dream world. She began to act 
paranoid, like refusing to answer the phone if it rang at 
seven minutes after the hour." He shrugged. "I had to let 
her go. Galbro hired her. I understand she's Arrigo ElLeichter's 
personal secretary now." 
Sin shook his head. "That's bizarre." 
"You'd do well to take a pass on it." 
"I agree, but I don't know that I can." Sin smiled weakly. 
"A man I knew once, Joe Ybarra, said, 'Always do the 
hardest part of the job first.' If I check out one of these 
seminar things I can give it a big black star, then move on 
to the easy stuff. You understand, right?" 
Kip nodded. "Right. I can pitch you in the direction of a 
recruiter for them. You can be in this weekend, if you 
want." 
"Thanks. What are you doing for dinner? Can I take you 
and Miko out?" 
"Not tonight, Sin." Kip fingered a pile of envelopes on 
his desk. "She's in Osaka visiting her mother. I, on the 
other hand, have tickets for the Daizaimoku Ospreys 
versus the Honchin Dragons. Want to go?" 
"Corporate Basketball?" Sin chuckled lightly. "I haven't 
seen a game since I was here last." 
"Ospreys are the hometeam, and they're being coached 
by Kevin Johnson. You might remember him; he was a 
Phoenix Sun." 
"Yeah, I think I saw him play when I was 10. Sounds 
good. When?" 


Kip glanced at his watch and then his schedule book. 
"Meet me here at 6. I'm skipping lunch today so I can go 
to the game." 
Sin stood and headed toward the door. "Six, got it. I'll 
be exploring Kimpunshima until then." 
"Hey, Sin," Kip called to him. 
"Yes?" 
"If you see any aliens during your wanderings," he 
laughed, "ask them who their insurance agents are so I 
can make a claim for my boat." 



Rajani decided that Hal Garrett had impressed her. 
Despite still needing time to heal up even after what she 
had done, he had pushed himself to ensure no one 
followed them from the hospital. On the drive away, he 
had Will pull up to a "drive-by" pay phone. His call had 
been short and curt, with codewords being exchanged for 
less than a half minute. When he hung up, he gave Will 
some directions, then lay back down in the bed of the 
truck. 
Rajani lost complete track of where they were within the 
dark world of Eclipse. The ceiling of photovoltaic cells 100 
feet above her head transformed the whole undercity into 
a dirty, forbidding world of perpetual night. Looking up, 
she could see man-sized nests clinging to the undersides 
of panels and jury-rigged walkways between buildings. 
Bonfires dotted the landscape despite the choking heat 
and, while she welcomed the warmth, she could see it 
made Hal very uncomfortable. 
Neon signs provided more light than the few unbroken 
streetlights scattered around the city. A secondary set of 
roads almost halfway up to the ceiling looked largely 
untraveled and, when she did see a car up there, it looked 
sleeker and newer than anything in the thick traffic stream 
surrounding the pickup truck. Traveling amid the squalor 
and noise of Eclipse, she wondered if, in fact, Fiddleback 
had not already won the battle for Phoenix. 
Will let them out of the truck at a dark intersection. He 
offered Garrett the shotgun, but Hal shook his head and 
leaned heavily against a lamp post. "Not necessary. 
Thank you for your help. Now, get out of here." 
Rajani gave George a big hug. "Thank you for believing 
me and helping." 
The old man winked at her and climbed back into the 
truck. "Believe in yourself, little sister. Fiddleback doesn't 
know it, but his days are numbered and closing fast on 
single digits." 
As the truck lurched away, a number of individuals 


seeped out of the shadows and slowly started ambling 
toward the two of them. Rajani's night vision let her see 
that these young men were African-Americans like Hal, 
but they had been altered in subtle ways. She noticed it 
first in how their hands swung freely and heavily at their 
sides. They have added weight to their hands to aid in 
hitting. And their faces, cheeks and browridges are enlarged 
to protect their eyes. 

seeped out of the shadows and slowly started ambling 
toward the two of them. Rajani's night vision let her see 
that these young men were African-Americans like Hal, 
but they had been altered in subtle ways. She noticed it 
first in how their hands swung freely and heavily at their 
sides. They have added weight to their hands to aid in 
hitting. And their faces, cheeks and browridges are enlarged 
to protect their eyes. 


sleeve on her fatigue shirt. She turned her left forearm so 
Hal could see the gold lines running from her gold 
fingernails up her arm. "You won't believe me, but what I 
will tell you is the truth. I was born on your planet in the year 
1969. In 1984, I was placed in stasis to combat a specific 
evil. It is the thing you call Fiddleback." 
The mention of the name caused Hal's smile to disappear. 
"I was in the hospital when they dealt with Fiddleback, 
but they've told me about it." His dark eyes glittered. "So, 
I guess I do believe you, in part anyway. Now, give me 
details so I can check you out. If you're not some sort of 
trap, then we'll get you in touch with Coyote." 
Whatever Hal did to run her story down took two days. 
During that time, she remained with the Blood Crips. 
While they did not let her out of the apartment, various 
members of the gang took turns entertaining her with 
everything from the vast selection of shows on their 
pirated cable feed to timing her in stripping down and 
reassembling automatic weapons. 
Despite having trouble understanding all their slang, 
Rajani enjoyed spending time with the gangbangers. She 
sensed from them the same depth of curiosity about her 
that Chandra and the other researchers had, yet none of 
them hated her the way Chandra's aide Nicholas had. 
While teaching her how to break down and put back 
together weapons had reminded her of the various experiments 
Dr. Chandra had performed, neither he nor his 
assistants had reacted with the gangbangers' unbridled 
enthusiasm when she succeeded. Had Jalal not vetoed 
the idea, a couple of the Blood Crips had intended to let 
her "make her meat" with an AKM in a drive-by on the 
Warriors of the Aryan World Alliance. 
After the two-day wait, Hal Garrett returned and brought 
three other people with him. Jalal escorted all of them into 
the little room, then shut the door and stood with his back 
against it. "We've been taking good care of her, Hal." 
"Thanks." Hal, looking much better, introduced his 
associates. "Rajani, these are Natch, Bat and Jytte. If you 
pass muster here, we will help you get to Coyote." 
Natch stood almost as tall as Rajani and held herself in 
tightly. Hidden inside a leather jacket, the woman had 
tucked most of her hair up into a red beret. Rajani felt like 
a prisoner before a judge as Natch looked her up and 
down, then the small woman grinned just a bit and Rajani 
felt her opening up some. "Not from around here, are you, 
Rajani?" 
"No, I'm not." Rajani returned her grin, then looked up 
at the tall, hard man standing behind Natch. If Natch had 
been a judge, then Bat was the executioner. She sensed 
him evaluating her on an animal-threat level. The surface 
thoughts she picked up read like tactical battle reports on 


how best to crack a tank. She realized, as she sifted 
through his ideas, that the plans were accepted or rejected 
not on the basis of efficiency or efficacy, but on how much 
fun he would have in employing each technique. 
Shivering, she shifted her focus to Jytte. Physically she 
found the tall, slender, blond woman appealing and nonthreatening. 
She noticed something stiff about Jytte, but 
she brushed passed it as she sought to probe the woman's 
mind. 
Jytte shook her head. "Please, do not do that." 
Rajani blinked. "What?" 
"Please refrain from trying to get inside me." Jytte 
hugged her arms around herself. "I am a very private 
person. Please." 
Rajani nodded. "Forgive me, all of you. Reading thoughts 
and emotions is, to me, akin to hearing. It is a sixth sense 
that I have learned to live by. I did not mean to intrude." 
She brought her internal defenses up to shield the others 
from her probes, but still caught a sense of relief from 
Natch and Jytte both. 
Bat's hostility almost punched through her mental 
wards. "You don't look like an extraterrestrial. They're 
small and gray and have light-bulb heads. You're different. 
Are you lying to us?" 
Rajani sat on the edge of the cot. "No, no I am not. I can 
explain that, if you wish." 
Natch reached back and took Bat's hand. "Please do." 
"The race you have described are known to me and my 
people as the Cythera, and the phenotype is the one they 
assume in all but one phase of their life-cycle. They are 
very intelligent and developed space travel ages ago. 
Then they discovered other inhabited planets in their solar 
system and, on one of them, they met and allied with my 
people, the Jes'da. It was the Cythera who devised the 
plan and built the ships that came here to explore your 
solar system" 
Rajani frowned, trying to remember exactly how her 
mother had explained all this to her while still trying to 
work in the explanation Dr. Chandra had devised for some 
of the things that she could do. "We, the Jes 'da, travel with 
the Cythera and coexist with them. Often, the crews are 
mixed equally despite the Cythera vastly out-numbering 
us. There are many Jes'da who have grown up only in the 
company of the Cythera, and they have begun to resemble 
them because of that association." 
Jytte's face remained impassive as she shook her 
head. "Contact Lamarckism? The idea that environmental 
influences create changes that are passed on to 
offspring has been rejected for decades as fallacious." She 
looked at Natch. "Bat's children, for example, won't 
inherit his scars." 


"No, no, that's not it at all." Rajani closed her eyes and 
concentrated. "Dr. Chandra said we were psychomimetic 
and, with training, psychomorphic. In infancy and on up 
through the age of five or six of your years, roughly one of 
our life-measurement units, we imprint on our surroundings 
and adapt so as to best survive. Protective coloration, 
if you will, that makes us take the form of those around us. 
"You see, I was bom on this world, though my parents 
were from a Jes'da colony world. I was raised in a lab 
setting where I interacted with humans and my parents. I 
retain their skin color, but physiologically I became more 
like a human than my parentsand they both looked very 
much like the Cythera with whom they had grown up." 
Muscles twitched at the corners of Bat's jaw. "Nice 
stripes. Have a tiger for a pet?" 
Rajani blushed. "These 'stripes' are not natural." She 
tossed off her jacket, then unbuttoned her shirt and 
slipped out of it. She held her arms out so they could see 
the stripes running the length of her arms, then turned so 
they could see where they fused into the solid gold line 
running from the waistband of her trousers on up to 
beneath her golden hair. She reached down and undid the 
button at the waist of her pants. "The stripes run up from 
my toes, as well." 
Hal held his hand up. "We'll believe you on that; you 
don't need to show us. Put your shirt back on and finish 
your explanation." 
She sat again and pulled the shirt on, but did not button 
it. "The stripes are from the tattooing done during a ritual 
that you would take to be a baptism, I think. My parents 
were both practitioners, or adepts, in a philosophical 
tradition of my people. It is called...well, with my vocal 
apparatus closer to yours than that of my parents, I can't 
even say the word, but it's almost pronounced c'dithrta. 
It teaches us to be always flexible and adaptable, to 
change the way the universe is changing." 
She found herself trembling, and she struggled to stop. 
Natch sat beside her and hugged her gently. That helped 
a bit, but the waves of adamant disbelief rolling off Bat 
began to burrow through her. Hatred and prejudice I can 
deal with, but at least those things confirm I exist. He 
refuses to believe anything I say. He denies what I am. He 
will grind me into nothing. 

"No, no, that's not it at all." Rajani closed her eyes and 
concentrated. "Dr. Chandra said we were psychomimetic 
and, with training, psychomorphic. In infancy and on up 
through the age of five or six of your years, roughly one of 
our life-measurement units, we imprint on our surroundings 
and adapt so as to best survive. Protective coloration, 
if you will, that makes us take the form of those around us. 
"You see, I was bom on this world, though my parents 
were from a Jes'da colony world. I was raised in a lab 
setting where I interacted with humans and my parents. I 
retain their skin color, but physiologically I became more 
like a human than my parentsand they both looked very 
much like the Cythera with whom they had grown up." 
Muscles twitched at the corners of Bat's jaw. "Nice 
stripes. Have a tiger for a pet?" 
Rajani blushed. "These 'stripes' are not natural." She 
tossed off her jacket, then unbuttoned her shirt and 
slipped out of it. She held her arms out so they could see 
the stripes running the length of her arms, then turned so 
they could see where they fused into the solid gold line 
running from the waistband of her trousers on up to 
beneath her golden hair. She reached down and undid the 
button at the waist of her pants. "The stripes run up from 
my toes, as well." 
Hal held his hand up. "We'll believe you on that; you 
don't need to show us. Put your shirt back on and finish 
your explanation." 
She sat again and pulled the shirt on, but did not button 
it. "The stripes are from the tattooing done during a ritual 
that you would take to be a baptism, I think. My parents 
were both practitioners, or adepts, in a philosophical 
tradition of my people. It is called...well, with my vocal 
apparatus closer to yours than that of my parents, I can't 
even say the word, but it's almost pronounced c'dithrta. 
It teaches us to be always flexible and adaptable, to 
change the way the universe is changing." 
She found herself trembling, and she struggled to stop. 
Natch sat beside her and hugged her gently. That helped 
a bit, but the waves of adamant disbelief rolling off Bat 
began to burrow through her. Hatred and prejudice I can 
deal with, but at least those things confirm I exist. He 
refuses to believe anything I say. He denies what I am. He 
will grind me into nothing. 


and c'dithrta. He may have even written about it." 
Bat's expression did not change, but the negativity 
stopped flowing so freely. "Why stasis?" 
"Stasis tubes mute outside influences. I went into stasis 
to meditate on the nature of Fiddleback with the specific 
goal of my becoming attuned to him. My father wanted me 
to become able to spy on him without being detected. I 
worked on the shielding first and, so far, I've not been 
detected, or I've been able to deflect Fiddleback's probes. 
My stay in the stasis tube was interrupted by Fiddleback's 
proximity, and I left without being able to fully understand 
him. 
"The reason for stasis, though, was to protect me. While 
we are in our meditations, we are very susceptible to 
outside influences." She smiled at Bat. "Were I to meditate 
in your proximity, for example, and had I proper nutrition, 
I would become that creature you want most to smash 
down and destroy." 
Bat's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as a hostile 
wave pulsed out from him. Rajani recoiled from it, then 
was almost sucked in by the undertow of respect pouring 
off him. She felt very confused, but Bat drifted away until 
he rested his back against the wall and folded his hands 
across his chest. 
Hal looked at him, then back at her. "This meditation 
you were doing? You said it was interrupted when 
Fiddleback showed up in Phoenix?" 
Rajani nodded. "I had a hard time making sense of 
Fiddleback's thoughts because they came through on an 
emotional level that was akin to dealing with a volcano. 
His frustration and anger nearly overwhelmed me, and 
they would have if I'd not been in the stasis tube. After that, 
I sensed his confidence because his tormentor was walking 
into a trap. Later I found things he had sent out, 
searcher drones, that were looking for Coyote. Will and 
George made the connection with you and so I'm here." 
The big African-American looked over at Jytte. "Comments?" 
"The Native Americans check out. They were the ones 
who helped Nero Loring when his daughter was after him. 
They do not work for Fiddleback." Jytte stood rock still as 
she spoke, reminding Rajani of a machine spitting out 
reams of facts. "Area 51 is still a highly classified base in 
Nevada. Dr. Parit Chandra worked for the Department of 
Defense as a consultant until he was diagnosed as having 
brain cancer in 1986. His body, and that of an unidentified 
female, were found in the ashes of a cabin near Big Bear 
Lake, California. She had been shot six timesit was 
ruled a murder/suicide. Nicholas Hunt was cited as a coauthor 
of a research paper Chandra had published in 
1981, but all traces of him are lost in 1984." 


Jalal smiled. "Chandra probably splashed Hunt to keep 
Raj here a secret." 
"No! Dr. Chandra would never do that." Rajani hesitated. 
"He would never have done that. You're sure Dr. 
Chandra is dead?" 
The plea to the contrary in her voice brought Jytte back 
from wherever she had been. The blond woman blinked 
at her, then glanced down at the floor. "I am afraid there 
is little doubt of that. I am...sorry." 
Take it easy, Rajani." Natch gave her shoulders a 
squeeze. "He knew you were safe, so he had to have died 
happy." 
Rajani brushed away a tear, then laughed lightly. 
"Tears. We don't have these. I guess the pod didn't filter 
everything out." 
"Anything else, Jytte?" Hal sat back in the chair he'd 
taken. 
"Incidentals check, both what she told you before and 
other things she has said here. I think she is legitimate." 
"I agree." Hal looked at Bat and Natch and got nods 
from both. "Good. Reaching Coyote won't be that easy 
because our only contact with him is in Tokyo. Looks like 
we'll have to head there, so pack up for a trip." 
Natch frowned. "Can you get us in?" 
Hal smiled confidently. "I have some old Suns teammates 
working the corporate leagues over there. My 'staff' 
and I have standing invitations to put on a clinic, and I feel 
in the mood to do some teaching." 
Rajani felt the rising confidence in the room and found 
her spirits being buoyed right along with them. Still, 
something tugged at the back of her mind. She concentrated, 
then looked up at Bat. "You didn't believe me, but 
not because I said I was an extraterrestrial. You didn't 
believe me because I wasn't the right kind of ET. How did 
you know about the Cythera? " 
"One of them once bet that his champion could tear a 
man limb from limb in under a minute." Lethal cruelty slid 
through Bat's smile. "He lost the bet." 

Jalal smiled. "Chandra probably splashed Hunt to keep 
Raj here a secret." 
"No! Dr. Chandra would never do that." Rajani hesitated. 
"He would never have done that. You're sure Dr. 
Chandra is dead?" 
The plea to the contrary in her voice brought Jytte back 
from wherever she had been. The blond woman blinked 
at her, then glanced down at the floor. "I am afraid there 
is little doubt of that. I am...sorry." 
Take it easy, Rajani." Natch gave her shoulders a 
squeeze. "He knew you were safe, so he had to have died 
happy." 
Rajani brushed away a tear, then laughed lightly. 
"Tears. We don't have these. I guess the pod didn't filter 
everything out." 
"Anything else, Jytte?" Hal sat back in the chair he'd 
taken. 
"Incidentals check, both what she told you before and 
other things she has said here. I think she is legitimate." 
"I agree." Hal looked at Bat and Natch and got nods 
from both. "Good. Reaching Coyote won't be that easy 
because our only contact with him is in Tokyo. Looks like 
we'll have to head there, so pack up for a trip." 
Natch frowned. "Can you get us in?" 
Hal smiled confidently. "I have some old Suns teammates 
working the corporate leagues over there. My 'staff' 
and I have standing invitations to put on a clinic, and I feel 
in the mood to do some teaching." 
Rajani felt the rising confidence in the room and found 
her spirits being buoyed right along with them. Still, 
something tugged at the back of her mind. She concentrated, 
then looked up at Bat. "You didn't believe me, but 
not because I said I was an extraterrestrial. You didn't 
believe me because I wasn't the right kind of ET. How did 
you know about the Cythera? " 
"One of them once bet that his champion could tear a 
man limb from limb in under a minute." Lethal cruelty slid 
through Bat's smile. "He lost the bet." 
Twisting away from the spear thrust, Coyote let his 
momentum spin him around. His right hand came up in 
a fist that arced through where the getsul's head had been 
a second before, then he pulled his own head down as the 
spear shaft swung over it. Still tucked into a crouch, 
Coyote rolled backward and ignored the monk's anticipatory 
cry of victory. 
Reaching out with his mind, Coyote yanked himself 
through to another dimension. Uncurling himself, he 


stood and waited as the tip of the spear probed the slit in 
reality that had swallowed him. Grabbing it right behind 
the head, he tugged it forward, then shifted it back to the 
right and shoved. He felt the butt end of it hit solidly, then 
he pulled hard on it, and the spear came free and into the 
new dimension. 
Turning to the right, he opened another hole and 
stepped through it. He turned his steps back on themselves 
and opened another hole through which he threw 
the spear, then he backed away and crouched down. That 
should be enough to delay him, if he comes after me. If not, 
that's three down and two more to go. 

stood and waited as the tip of the spear probed the slit in 
reality that had swallowed him. Grabbing it right behind 
the head, he tugged it forward, then shifted it back to the 
right and shoved. He felt the butt end of it hit solidly, then 
he pulled hard on it, and the spear came free and into the 
new dimension. 
Turning to the right, he opened another hole and 
stepped through it. He turned his steps back on themselves 
and opened another hole through which he threw 
the spear, then he backed away and crouched down. That 
should be enough to delay him, if he comes after me. If not, 
that's three down and two more to go. 


Angle is likely where they want to engage me. Muck, 
Night and Crush are my three choices out of here, and the 
spear should lure someone into Night. I was just in Muck, 
so it looks like Crush is it. Having made that decision, he 
took two steps to the left, focused his mind on splitting the 
wall between dimensions and moved. 
Crush's atmosphere closed in on him like a hot and 
humid summer day inside an iron box. The dimension's 
gravity ran about 30% greater than that of Earth, as nearly 
as Coyote could tell, except for the occasional "upspout" 
in which gravity geysered up or out or counter to normal. 
The landscape gently rolled through a series of gray hills, 
with a deep, dark blue sky that appeared to be in perpetual 
twilight. The only sign of life he saw were broad, squat 
plants and ribbonlike kelp that thrived in the upspouts. 
Coyote crouched, not wholly by his own choice, and let 
his mind stream out to probe the other nearby dimensions. 
Rust remained clear, but he detected something in 
Slide. Slide has an advantage for the defender. As I'm 
supposed to be the one being hunted, and he's searching 
the logical place for me to be hiding, perhaps I can surprise 
him. 

Angle is likely where they want to engage me. Muck, 
Night and Crush are my three choices out of here, and the 
spear should lure someone into Night. I was just in Muck, 
so it looks like Crush is it. Having made that decision, he 
took two steps to the left, focused his mind on splitting the 
wall between dimensions and moved. 
Crush's atmosphere closed in on him like a hot and 
humid summer day inside an iron box. The dimension's 
gravity ran about 30% greater than that of Earth, as nearly 
as Coyote could tell, except for the occasional "upspout" 
in which gravity geysered up or out or counter to normal. 
The landscape gently rolled through a series of gray hills, 
with a deep, dark blue sky that appeared to be in perpetual 
twilight. The only sign of life he saw were broad, squat 
plants and ribbonlike kelp that thrived in the upspouts. 
Coyote crouched, not wholly by his own choice, and let 
his mind stream out to probe the other nearby dimensions. 
Rust remained clear, but he detected something in 
Slide. Slide has an advantage for the defender. As I'm 
supposed to be the one being hunted, and he's searching 
the logical place for me to be hiding, perhaps I can surprise 
him. 


had the frictional equivalence of ice on wet glass. As the 
getsul completed his turn, his pivot foot slipped back, and 
his other foot skipped forward. He went down in an abrupt 
and painful split, then fell forward and bashed his face into 
the ground. 
Coyote winced as the man hit. Dropping to one knee, 
he bent forward, then pulled his head up, imparting just 
enough forward momentum to his body to start him 
sliding toward the unconscious man. He bumped up 
against the getsul and that bled off his momentum. He 
pressed fingers to the man's throat and found a strong, 
steady pulse. 
Only one left, I think. Kneeling there, Coyote checked 
Crush and Muck but found no one. I don't want to stay 
here. Maybe Muck to Angle to Storm, and I can hide there. 

had the frictional equivalence of ice on wet glass. As the 
getsul completed his turn, his pivot foot slipped back, and 
his other foot skipped forward. He went down in an abrupt 
and painful split, then fell forward and bashed his face into 
the ground. 
Coyote winced as the man hit. Dropping to one knee, 
he bent forward, then pulled his head up, imparting just 
enough forward momentum to his body to start him 
sliding toward the unconscious man. He bumped up 
against the getsul and that bled off his momentum. He 
pressed fingers to the man's throat and found a strong, 
steady pulse. 
Only one left, I think. Kneeling there, Coyote checked 
Crush and Muck but found no one. I don't want to stay 
here. Maybe Muck to Angle to Storm, and I can hide there. 

He stood, and the slime dripped off his legs. Taking 
great sucking steps forward, he came to a sheer hillside 
covered with the slime. Climbing up, he twisted around 
and planted his back flat against the rock face. Hanging 
up above normal human eye level, he focused his mind 
and probed both Rust and Angle. 
Initially, he caught only a faint impression of a getsul in 
Angle, but that trace evaporated beneath the harsh glare 
of a far stronger sensation. Someone or something entered 
the clutch and its trace filled the whole series of 
pocket dimensions. At first, Coyote thought someone had 
made a bad mistake in not shielding himself, but then he 
caught the edges on the impression and he realized it had 
been curbed so it would not extend beyond the clutch. 
This is deliberate, then. A lure and a trap. As Coyote 
sorted through the sensations being broadcast by this new 
hunter, he decided it was not Mong, nor was it any of the 
other monks with whom he had trained. He also discovered 
the hunter was male, but he couldn't bring himself to 
see the hunter as a man. The second he drew that 
conclusion, he knew who was out there. 

The Yidam. 

Twisting his way around to face the cliff, Coyote clawed 
his way up toward the top. The impressions of the Yidam 
pounded into him like hoofbeats. The Yidam stalked 
openly through the clutch, confidently and contemptu



ously advertising its presence. The hammering sensations 
came faster and harder as the Yidam approached, 
but they so overwhelmed Coyote that he could not 
pinpoint a direction, and he looked about in vain for any 
sign of the creature as he reached the top of the cliff. 
Suddenly, there above him, the Yidam appeared through 
a slash in the sky. Cloaked in black, the Yidam stepped 
through to the cliff edge and stared down at him. His 
scarlet eyes flashed with gold, and his gaze seemed to 
bore right through Coyote. White tusks stood out in sharp 
contrast with his jet-black skin, and the cloak opened 
enough to let Coyote see the necklace of skulls hanging 
from around his neck. 
Gold glinting from his talons, the Yidam's right foot 
swept free of the mucusoid carpet creature and caught 
Coyote over his left ear. Stars exploded before Coyote's 
eyes, and he sensed himself starting to fall. At the same 
time, something stabbed deep into his mind, using his 
disorientation to make him vulnerable. He snapped his 
head around to try to break that contact, but only succeeded 
in starting his body rolling through the air. 
Get out of my mind! Coyote focused long enough to 
snap his mind shut, then immediately assessed his situation. 
He knew he had little control over his body as it still 
fought off the shock of the blow. One chance. 
Coyote ripped through to Angle and braced himself for 
impact. He landed with his left shoulder on one of the huge 
hexagonal plates that made up the world of Angle. The 
plate gave a bit, preventing his shoulder from being 
crushed, then pushed back and returned almost all of his 
energy to him. Bouncing up at the complementary angle 
from that at which he'd hit, Coyote spun up and off to the 
right. 
Are you as cocky as you advertise? Coyote craned his 
neck back to watch the gash from Muck and tried to will 
himself back toward it. As he spun around, he lost sight of 
it, then, as it came back into view, he saw the Yidam's feet 
break through. Bingo! 
Spinning uncontrollably, Coyote passed close to the 
opening into Muck. His feet flailed through the air and 
caught the Yidam in mid-chest, crushing two of the skulls. 
The blow immediately killed Coyote's spin, but sent the 
Yidam whirling backward and down toward the ground. 
The Yidam hit hard with his head, but the soft ground 
prevented him from breaking his neck. His body continued 
to spin down, slamming his buttocks into the ground 
as well, then he bounced up and started forward somersaults 
through the air. He made some motions to control 
his flight, but he headed away from Coyote and could do 
nothing until he hit the ground again. 
Angle's gentle gravity pulled Coyote down to a hexago



nal plain. His legs managed to support his weight by the 
time he landed, but he let himself drop into a crouch, 
anyway. Reaching down, he jabbed his hands into the 
Earth and tore a new opening into another proto-dimension. 
Taking one last look at the flying Yidam, Coyote 
broke through to Storm. 
A driving barrage of hailstones blasted Coyote to the 
snowy ground. Pushing off the ground, he tried to stand, 
but a thunder strike's concussive explosion knocked him 
down again. Lightning strobed silver into the dark world, 
then the hissing sting of wind-sped sand blinded him. 
Not necessarily my best choice. He blinked away the 
sand and set himself as he sensed the Yidam's approach. 
He turned slowly, resigning himself to always be facing 
into the wind, and raised his left hand to shield his eyes. 
A forked lightning bolt split the sky, silhouetting the Yidam 
off to his right, then an arctic wind separated them with a 
sheet of snow. 
Cutting to his right, Coyote snapped a kick through 
where he had last seen the Yidam. To his surprise, he 
connected solidly and heard a grunt. Expecting a riposte 
of some sort, Coyote threw himself on his face, then rolled 
twice to the right and rose into a low crouch. A curtain of 
rain cleansed the air between them, drenching the Yidam 
and wrapping him up in his heavily sodden cloak. 
With a half-step forward, Coyote drove his right heel 
into the monster's spine. Raising his left arm, he blocked 
the elbow flying back at him, then hammered his right fist 
into the same spot he had kicked. He felt thick muscles 
protect the spine from the full force of the blow, but he hit 
again, then leaped back as the Yidam fell forward and 
scythed his legs back through where Coyote had stood. 
As he landed, something in the back of his mind painted 
a schematic over the outline of the Yidam. His mind tried 
to fit the monster into a foe identification template and 
rejected it when the height and robustness of the figure 
failed to drop into standard variations from the norm. 
Before the template faded, Coyote saw it contained 
detailed information on the weakness of the creature it 
had described, including the locations of nerve ganglia 
and points where a single strike could maim or kill. 

nal plain. His legs managed to support his weight by the 
time he landed, but he let himself drop into a crouch, 
anyway. Reaching down, he jabbed his hands into the 
Earth and tore a new opening into another proto-dimension. 
Taking one last look at the flying Yidam, Coyote 
broke through to Storm. 
A driving barrage of hailstones blasted Coyote to the 
snowy ground. Pushing off the ground, he tried to stand, 
but a thunder strike's concussive explosion knocked him 
down again. Lightning strobed silver into the dark world, 
then the hissing sting of wind-sped sand blinded him. 
Not necessarily my best choice. He blinked away the 
sand and set himself as he sensed the Yidam's approach. 
He turned slowly, resigning himself to always be facing 
into the wind, and raised his left hand to shield his eyes. 
A forked lightning bolt split the sky, silhouetting the Yidam 
off to his right, then an arctic wind separated them with a 
sheet of snow. 
Cutting to his right, Coyote snapped a kick through 
where he had last seen the Yidam. To his surprise, he 
connected solidly and heard a grunt. Expecting a riposte 
of some sort, Coyote threw himself on his face, then rolled 
twice to the right and rose into a low crouch. A curtain of 
rain cleansed the air between them, drenching the Yidam 
and wrapping him up in his heavily sodden cloak. 
With a half-step forward, Coyote drove his right heel 
into the monster's spine. Raising his left arm, he blocked 
the elbow flying back at him, then hammered his right fist 
into the same spot he had kicked. He felt thick muscles 
protect the spine from the full force of the blow, but he hit 
again, then leaped back as the Yidam fell forward and 
scythed his legs back through where Coyote had stood. 
As he landed, something in the back of his mind painted 
a schematic over the outline of the Yidam. His mind tried 
to fit the monster into a foe identification template and 
rejected it when the height and robustness of the figure 
failed to drop into standard variations from the norm. 
Before the template faded, Coyote saw it contained 
detailed information on the weakness of the creature it 
had described, including the locations of nerve ganglia 
and points where a single strike could maim or kill. 

Coyote pulled back to the right as the Yidam closed and 
posted a kick that would have pulverized his left shoulder 


had it landed. Back-peddling as fast as he could, Coyote 
ducked and dodged away from the kicks and punches the 
Yidam threw at him. The creature's sheer ferocity and 
power made it terrifying, but Coyote's discipline and 
control made him invincible. 
The Yidam came up and around with his left leg in a 
roundhouse kick that Coyote avoided easily. Too easily. 
As he made that realization, he saw the Yidam lean 
forward and use his flying leg to counter-balance his 
upper body. Reaching out with his right hand, the Yidam 
caught Coyote's right ankle and tossed him back up into 
the air. 
Coyote landed hard on a rock ridge. The fall stunned 
him. He looked up as the Yidam loomed over him and 
raised a foot meant to crush his skull in one final stomp. 
Coyote tried in vain to bring his arms up to protect his 
head, but his limbs would not respond. Sorry, Crowley, 
Fiddleback is all yours now. 

had it landed. Back-peddling as fast as he could, Coyote 
ducked and dodged away from the kicks and punches the 
Yidam threw at him. The creature's sheer ferocity and 
power made it terrifying, but Coyote's discipline and 
control made him invincible. 
The Yidam came up and around with his left leg in a 
roundhouse kick that Coyote avoided easily. Too easily. 
As he made that realization, he saw the Yidam lean 
forward and use his flying leg to counter-balance his 
upper body. Reaching out with his right hand, the Yidam 
caught Coyote's right ankle and tossed him back up into 
the air. 
Coyote landed hard on a rock ridge. The fall stunned 
him. He looked up as the Yidam loomed over him and 
raised a foot meant to crush his skull in one final stomp. 
Coyote tried in vain to bring his arms up to protect his 
head, but his limbs would not respond. Sorry, Crowley, 
Fiddleback is all yours now. 


left, remained low, and raised his hands toward off unseen 
strikes. 
If he is here, at least we're evenwe're both blind. 
Wrong, Kyi-can,Coyote heard the Yidam's voice in 
his mind, I see in the ultraviolet range. 
Fingers tangled themselves in his hair, jerking his 
head back, and an invisible fist pounded him into 
unconsciousness. 
Uncomfortably wet and stiff, Coyote awakened staring 
up at the night sky over Tibet. Back between his feet he 
saw the heavily guarded East Gate, but none of the monks 
at the far end of the causeway paid him any attention. 
They stared out beyond him, chanting as always. 
Pain centered itself in his nose, and he immediately 
knew it had been broken. Licking his lips, he tasted blood. 
He pulled himself up into a sitting position, resting his back 
against the Dukhang wall, and waited until the wave of 
dizziness passed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he 
cradled his head in his hands. 
It makes no sense. He assumed the creature he had 
fought in the training room was the same one who used 
the naginata to destroy the gorfash. The first time he met 
it, the Yidam tried to kill him, but the second time it saved 
his life. The third time it sought him and tried to kill him, 
but then didn't do the job when it had the chance in Night. 

left, remained low, and raised his hands toward off unseen 
strikes. 
If he is here, at least we're evenwe're both blind. 
Wrong, Kyi-can,Coyote heard the Yidam's voice in 
his mind, I see in the ultraviolet range. 
Fingers tangled themselves in his hair, jerking his 
head back, and an invisible fist pounded him into 
unconsciousness. 
Uncomfortably wet and stiff, Coyote awakened staring 
up at the night sky over Tibet. Back between his feet he 
saw the heavily guarded East Gate, but none of the monks 
at the far end of the causeway paid him any attention. 
They stared out beyond him, chanting as always. 
Pain centered itself in his nose, and he immediately 
knew it had been broken. Licking his lips, he tasted blood. 
He pulled himself up into a sitting position, resting his back 
against the Dukhang wall, and waited until the wave of 
dizziness passed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he 
cradled his head in his hands. 
It makes no sense. He assumed the creature he had 
fought in the training room was the same one who used 
the naginata to destroy the gorfash. The first time he met 
it, the Yidam tried to kill him, but the second time it saved 
his life. The third time it sought him and tried to kill him, 
but then didn't do the job when it had the chance in Night. 

Coyote slowly stood and turned to lean on the wall. 
Looking up, he saw the Yidam's image staring down at 
him. 
Coyote shook his head. "You mock me because you're 
in control, but you should not take refuge in that idea. 
Things change, and I change. Fiddleback thought he 
controlled me, and you, like him, will learn how dangerous 
I can be when the tables are turned." 



Given Kip's apprehension about the Galactic Brotherhood 
Institute, Sin had not been sure what to expect when 
he accepted a recruiter's invitation to attend a Friday night 
seminar offered by Arrigo El-Leichter. Over the phone, 
the woman had made it sound as innocent as a lecture 
about a trip to some exotic locale, but the talk's title, "The 
Secret Masters of Your Life," came across as far more 
sinister. 
Things were slated to start at 7:30 p.m., so Sin arrived 
15 minutes early on the off chance he would get a chance 
to take a look around the institute. According to the map 
he had of Kimpunshima, the Galbro Complex occupied as 
much space as a small multinational corporation could be 


expected to use, though its percentage of residential to 
operational facilities approached those of a service organization. 
Galbro did have access to the docks on the 
underside of the artificial island and maintained a hangar 
at the Level Two airport on the island's south end. 
Early arrivals for lectures were expected and greeted by 
two smiling, uniformed women. Both struck Sin as a bit 
vacuous and even incongruous because, while he was 
used to being greeted at the door in Japan, the greeters 
were seldom Aryan types like these two. They directed 
him across a large, inlaid marble foyer to a built-in booth 
where another Nordic type was checking a list and 
handing out name tags. 
"Welcome to GBI. How may I help you?" Standing in a 
booth filled with books, videos, CDs, cassettes and posters, 
the blond man look as wholesome and clean cut as 
an ad for virtue. 
Sin gave him an innocent smile. "I registered for this 
evening's lecture. I am Sinclair MacNeal." 
The blue-eyed young man studied the printout on his 
clipboard, then smiled and checked a name off the list. He 
looked over at several rows of name tags, then plucked 
one from the center of a line. "Sinclair K. MacNeal, here 
you are." He pointed off to his left and toward a set of 
double-doors. "Go in and take a seat. Try to get near the 
front so you can see Mr. El-Leichter better." 
"Thank you." Sin took the tag and pinned it to his 
jacket's breast pocket. Following the man's directions, he 
walked into a huge auditorium and headed directly for the 
tiny phalanx of folding chairs arranged at the far end near 
a podium. The room itself had the look of a gymnasium, 
but Sin saw no court lines painted on the parquet floor, nor 
any basketball backboards hanging on the walls. Instead, 
numerous tapestries, quilts and huge paintings decorated 
the room, with all of them sharing a "Visitors from the 
Stars" motif. 
Sin thought most of them laughably amateur in 
execution. This surprised him, because he already 
knew GBI was highly sophisticated, as evidenced by 
his name tag. He had arranged with Lilith to have his file 
modified to change his middle initial every three hours. 
Their providing him with name tag that used a "K" as 
his middle initial meant they had accessed his file 33 
to 36 hours after their recruiter made contact. Given 
the level of security consciousness Lorica Industries 
had shown, it meant GBI had excellent computer 
crackers or a plant inside Lorica Japan. 

expected to use, though its percentage of residential to 
operational facilities approached those of a service organization. 
Galbro did have access to the docks on the 
underside of the artificial island and maintained a hangar 
at the Level Two airport on the island's south end. 
Early arrivals for lectures were expected and greeted by 
two smiling, uniformed women. Both struck Sin as a bit 
vacuous and even incongruous because, while he was 
used to being greeted at the door in Japan, the greeters 
were seldom Aryan types like these two. They directed 
him across a large, inlaid marble foyer to a built-in booth 
where another Nordic type was checking a list and 
handing out name tags. 
"Welcome to GBI. How may I help you?" Standing in a 
booth filled with books, videos, CDs, cassettes and posters, 
the blond man look as wholesome and clean cut as 
an ad for virtue. 
Sin gave him an innocent smile. "I registered for this 
evening's lecture. I am Sinclair MacNeal." 
The blue-eyed young man studied the printout on his 
clipboard, then smiled and checked a name off the list. He 
looked over at several rows of name tags, then plucked 
one from the center of a line. "Sinclair K. MacNeal, here 
you are." He pointed off to his left and toward a set of 
double-doors. "Go in and take a seat. Try to get near the 
front so you can see Mr. El-Leichter better." 
"Thank you." Sin took the tag and pinned it to his 
jacket's breast pocket. Following the man's directions, he 
walked into a huge auditorium and headed directly for the 
tiny phalanx of folding chairs arranged at the far end near 
a podium. The room itself had the look of a gymnasium, 
but Sin saw no court lines painted on the parquet floor, nor 
any basketball backboards hanging on the walls. Instead, 
numerous tapestries, quilts and huge paintings decorated 
the room, with all of them sharing a "Visitors from the 
Stars" motif. 
Sin thought most of them laughably amateur in 
execution. This surprised him, because he already 
knew GBI was highly sophisticated, as evidenced by 
his name tag. He had arranged with Lilith to have his file 
modified to change his middle initial every three hours. 
Their providing him with name tag that used a "K" as 
his middle initial meant they had accessed his file 33 
to 36 hours after their recruiter made contact. Given 
the level of security consciousness Lorica Industries 
had shown, it meant GBI had excellent computer 
crackers or a plant inside Lorica Japan. 


This should be interesting, if nothing else. 

This should be interesting, if nothing else. 


wave and thickness. Despite not having a massive, 
muscular body, when he moved forward, Sin had no 
doubt the charismatic man was physically powerful and 
mentally sharp. His piercing blue gaze swept across the 
audience, reflecting the light of the spot back on them. 
He wore a custom tailored suit of white that bridged the 
gap between a military uniform and something that might 
be a fashion rage in the near future. The jacket, which was 
cut to his waist, featured a double-breast with lapels flared 
on either side looking almost like wings. The slight flare to 
the legs of his slacks allowed him to wear white boots 
without having to tuck the pants into them. 
Arrigo El-Leichter strode to the dais and mounted it in 
one easy step. As he took his place behind the podium, 
the spotlight dimmed and the house lights came up a bit. 
Track lights on the ceiling illuminated the Galactic Brotherhood 
banner, and a vent somewhere shunted enough 
air at it to make it wave slightly. 
Arrigo raised his right fist to thump his left breast, then 
extended it upward and out in a salute mimicked by some 
members of the audience. "I bring you greetings and best 
wishes from the Galactic Brotherhood Institute. Those of 
you who are with us for the first time might not know it, but 
we were formed three decades ago to help all mankind 
realize the unity of their creation and to help them attain 
their rightful place in the galaxy." 
Sin felt the room's tension build as uninitiated folks like 
him began to wonder what they were doing there, but 
Arrigo drained it off with a smile. "You have probably 
heard many things about us and our work heremany 
wild and wondrous and even crazy stories about what we 
do and who we are." He laughed lightly, and the audience 
joined in. "Well, I will leave it to you to judge, after this 
evening, if any of those things are true. All I ask of you, 
right here and now, is to open your minds, and try to put 
aside your preconceptions. Don't ask yourself if what I will 
share with you is true or false, but ask yourself if it could 
be true, then judge from there what action you should 
take." 
Sin smiled. The man's request sounded reasonable on 
the surface of it, but Sin saw the logical trap. He knew that 
if he were to accept as possible what the man said, then 
act on that possibility, he could be talked into anything. 
Arrigo was asking him to disable his decision-making 
faculties, then suggesting he could make a decision based 
on whatever he had left. 
"The story I am going to tell you is going to sound 
strange and perhaps even disjointed. It is, in fact, far more 
complex than I am able to present here, and researching 
every facet of it is the main work of our organization. Rest 
assured that I would not offer any of these facts to you had 


not extensive and exhaustive studies been done of them." 
The Galbro leader leaned heavily on the edges of the 
oak podium. "Over 60 years ago, on July 2, 1947, a 
spacecraft of extraterrestrial origin crashed during a 
thunderstorm on a farm outside Corona, New Mexico, in 
the United States. This has popularly been referred to as 
the 'Roswell Incident,' though it took place nearly 80 miles 
from that city. From the crash were recovered four 
EBEsextraterrestrial biological entitiesthree of which 
died in the crash. The fourth remained alive and even 
recovered from his injuries. His name was Krlll. 
"Krlll served as a liaison between the United States 
government and his people, a spacefaring race we know 
as the 'Grays.' The Grays were, at the time of the crash, 
involved in a program of human kidnapping and animal 
mutilation. They managed to hide evidence of this from 
the United States government and, in return for aid in 
developing high-technology devices like antigravity spaceships, 
entered into an alliance with the United States and 
her allies. They later concluded a similar agreement with 
the Soviets and, by the time President Kennedy challenged 
America to put a man on the moon, the Grays, in 
conjunction with the CIA and KGB, already had an 
operational moonbase called Luna in place." 
Sin frowned. Man's race to the moon had taken place 
well before his birth, but he'd studied it avidly as he grew 
up. He'd also read enough about UFOs to recognize the 
reference to the Corona crash, but all of that had been 
explained away as a downed weather balloon. This is nuts. 
Arrigo went on, keeping his voice low and sincere. "The 
Grays, to this day, continue their predation on mankind. 
They steal our people and use them for genetics experiments. 
Under terms of their agreement with the governments 
of the world, they built a number of underground 
bases, and the Grays use them to clone themselves and 
make hybrid Gray humans. You have heard of them from 
the few that have escaped. In some places in the United 
States, these forlorn individuals have become bogeymen, 
known variously as Gray devils or Gray-man or Grimmands. 
"Through the alliance and agreements made in it, the 
Grays have succeeded in implanting one in 40 humans 
with tiny devices that, at an appointed time, will react to 
a signal and turn the afflicted into an army of zombies that 
will destroy the world as we know it. Those of you who 
have awakened with blood on your pillow from what you 
thought was a nocturnal nosebleed could well have been 
plucked from the safety of your bed and unwittingly turned 
into an implantee against your will!" 
Various members of the audience apparently recognized 
themselves in Arrigo's description. Several rubbed 


at their noses, and one man in the back honked loudly as 
he blew his nose into a white handkerchief. Sin found 
himself wrinkling his nose unconsciously, then he frowned 
and exerted conscious control to banish the itching. 
"I would be irresponsible, my dear friends, if I were to 
drop this bombshell on you without having some sort of 
solution to the problem the Grays pose. As you can 
imagine, they are not the only ET race in the universe. In 
fact, within a year of the Roswell Incident, a representative 
of another intergalactic race, the Noorn, arrived on our 
world and offered a warning about the Grays. He was 
ignored and ridiculed, mainly because he claimed to have 
come from Venus, when he really came from much 
farther. His name was Valiant Thor, and for years he 
worked to try to keep us safe from the Grays." 
Arrigo looked down and seemed almost profoundly 
embarrassed for a moment. "Valiant Thor, while working 
with Dr. Frank E. Stranges, met and married my mother. 
I am his son, and his mission, after his murder at the hands 
of the Grays, has fallen to me. We have here, at the 
Galactic Brotherhood Institute, the equipment necessary 
to rid you of the Gray influence. We have training that will 
make you able to resist them and thwart their plans." He 
paused and smiled gently. "And it has been reported to 
me that one side effect of our training is an apparent 
increase in the material well-being of our students." 
Arrigo stood up straight and clasped his hands before 
him humbly. "I know this is an incredible amount of 
information for you to digest. If you will turn to your left, 
one of my associates will start a video presentation we 
have that will show you much of the proof we have brought 
to light from beneath the shroud of a government cover-
up. After that, I will gladly answer questions, then we can 
adjourn to a more informal setting where we will offer you 
refreshments." 
The lights again went down, and a projection screen 
descended from the ceiling. Sin turned his chair toward it, 
and sat back to watch the presentation. It consisted of 
grainy photograph after grainy photograph of UFOs with 
complete listings of when and where they were sighted. 
Pictures of faces on Mars and clips from classic films like 
ET and Close Encounters of the Third Kind were included, 
the narrator noting their presentation as "fiction" was part 
of the Gray disinformation campaign designed to make 
people think of EBEs as harmless. 
The barrage of pictures and short "eye witness" segments 
appeared to Sin to be long on circumstantial 
evidence and twisted logic. He saw some of the thoroughly 
discredited Billy Meier photographs being touted 
as genuine, and heard once again the accusation that 
UFO debunker Philip J. Klass was a CIA agent. Claims of 


duplicity were made about people long dead, and the 
narrator asked questions designed to implant doubt in the 
minds of the views, using formulations like "Isn't it curious 
that...?" or "Could it possibly be coincidence that...?" 
Sin found everything woven together in a nice package 
that connected utterly disparate elements into a web 
designed to gather everyone in. The shotgun approach to 
describing phenomena meant that almost everyone in the 
room would find one "fact" that rang true to them. 
Because that part of it checked in their mind, they 
seriously considered the other "facts" and weighed them 
accordingly. 
The result was a conspiracy matrix that explained 
everything from natural disasters like the hole in the ozone 
layer to the assassination of President John Kennedy 
allegedly at the hands of one of his own bodyguards. 
Taken as a whole, the conspiracy could be lifted out, and 
events would have still functioned the way they did, but 
the conspiracy made larger, sinister sense out of isolated 
incidents, it fed into the nascent sense of paranoia triggered 
in everyone when asked, "What if this is true, but the 
government doesn't want you to know it?" 
Unconvinced, but impressed at Arrigo El-Leichter's 
ability to manipulate an audience, Sin watched the man 
return to the podium as the lights came back up, and the 
screen retracted into the ceiling. He's very good. He offers 
hope and a promise of power, because he's manufactured 
the threat precisely so he can prescribe and provide the 
cure. No wonder Ryuhito would find this seductive, and 
why his grandfather is worried. 

duplicity were made about people long dead, and the 
narrator asked questions designed to implant doubt in the 
minds of the views, using formulations like "Isn't it curious 
that...?" or "Could it possibly be coincidence that...?" 
Sin found everything woven together in a nice package 
that connected utterly disparate elements into a web 
designed to gather everyone in. The shotgun approach to 
describing phenomena meant that almost everyone in the 
room would find one "fact" that rang true to them. 
Because that part of it checked in their mind, they 
seriously considered the other "facts" and weighed them 
accordingly. 
The result was a conspiracy matrix that explained 
everything from natural disasters like the hole in the ozone 
layer to the assassination of President John Kennedy 
allegedly at the hands of one of his own bodyguards. 
Taken as a whole, the conspiracy could be lifted out, and 
events would have still functioned the way they did, but 
the conspiracy made larger, sinister sense out of isolated 
incidents, it fed into the nascent sense of paranoia triggered 
in everyone when asked, "What if this is true, but the 
government doesn't want you to know it?" 
Unconvinced, but impressed at Arrigo El-Leichter's 
ability to manipulate an audience, Sin watched the man 
return to the podium as the lights came back up, and the 
screen retracted into the ceiling. He's very good. He offers 
hope and a promise of power, because he's manufactured 
the threat precisely so he can prescribe and provide the 
cure. No wonder Ryuhito would find this seductive, and 
why his grandfather is worried. 


audience. Arrigo took this in stride and broadened his 
smile a bit. "Mr. MacNeal, that is an excellent question. 
What has protected me is the fact that I have gone public. 
If they were to hit me now, all of you would know that what 
I have said is the truth. So, instead of doing that, they allow 
me to speak and they labor to neutralize the people I have 
trained and those who would help us in our researches." 
"Neutralize, sir?" Sin shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't 
follow that." 
"For various reasons, we don't include this information 
in our video presentation, but the United States government 
maintains prison camps in Arizona to sequester 
those who know too much." 
Sin made a great show of being surprised. "Mr. El-
Leichter, I come from Arizona. There are no prison camps 
there." 
The smile on Arrigo's face shifted from one of amusement 
to a mask of beneficence. "Don't exist, Mr. MacNeal, 
or you have never seen them? You would agree there is a 
difference?" 
The jaws of the trap snapped shut on Sin. He bowed his 
head. "You're right, there is a difference. And, no, I have 
never seen them." 
"The Grays are very crafty, Mr. MacNeal. They do not 
take chances." Arrigo scratched at his right ear. "In fact, 
during your last stay in Japan, it is entirely possible that 
your father's corporation actually worked to construct 
one of the underground breeding camps south of Casa 
Grande." 
Sin sat slowly and immediately knew his father was 
more than capable of making a pact with the devil if it 
meant shareholder dividends in the next quarter. There 
are plenty of jobs that I don't know about. Build-more 
could have easily...wait a minute. 

audience. Arrigo took this in stride and broadened his 
smile a bit. "Mr. MacNeal, that is an excellent question. 
What has protected me is the fact that I have gone public. 
If they were to hit me now, all of you would know that what 
I have said is the truth. So, instead of doing that, they allow 
me to speak and they labor to neutralize the people I have 
trained and those who would help us in our researches." 
"Neutralize, sir?" Sin shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't 
follow that." 
"For various reasons, we don't include this information 
in our video presentation, but the United States government 
maintains prison camps in Arizona to sequester 
those who know too much." 
Sin made a great show of being surprised. "Mr. El-
Leichter, I come from Arizona. There are no prison camps 
there." 
The smile on Arrigo's face shifted from one of amusement 
to a mask of beneficence. "Don't exist, Mr. MacNeal, 
or you have never seen them? You would agree there is a 
difference?" 
The jaws of the trap snapped shut on Sin. He bowed his 
head. "You're right, there is a difference. And, no, I have 
never seen them." 
"The Grays are very crafty, Mr. MacNeal. They do not 
take chances." Arrigo scratched at his right ear. "In fact, 
during your last stay in Japan, it is entirely possible that 
your father's corporation actually worked to construct 
one of the underground breeding camps south of Casa 
Grande." 
Sin sat slowly and immediately knew his father was 
more than capable of making a pact with the devil if it 
meant shareholder dividends in the next quarter. There 
are plenty of jobs that I don't know about. Build-more 
could have easily...wait a minute. 

"Well, then, if that is an end to the questions, please join 
us for refreshments in the lobby." Again Arrigo gave the 
audience a self-effacing smile. "My staff constantly reminds 
me that we do have certain costs, so some of my 
books and tapes are available outside, if you wish to learn 
more. We also have some GBI staffers there to help you 
with inquiries about our classes. Thank you for coming 
this evening." 
Mild applause broke out, then the audience began to 
drift out toward the lobby. Sin purposefully hung back, yet 
provided the perfume man no opening to engage him in 
conversation. Sin assumed that he, as well as a number 


of other people in the crowd, were shills pimping for 
Galbro. 
Arrigo El-Leichter strode over to where Sin sat. "I want 
to thank you for your question, Mr. MacNeal." 
Sin laughed lightly. "Thank me? I hardly towed the 
party line here, Mr. El-Leichter. I would imagine you find 
doubting Thomases an annoyance." 
"Ari, please, and may I call you Sinclair? Thank you." 
El-Leichter composed his face in a serious expression. "A 
question like yours shows you have actually been thinking 
about what you've heard. I could have hundreds of 
thousands of these people believing me in a second, 
many because they want to believe in anything. Now 
those people have as much right to our help as anyone, 
but they are not the sort of people who can help us." 
"I'm not sure I follow you, Ari." 
"Simply put, Sinclair, the Galactic Brotherhood can use 
everyone and welcomes everyone, but we need people 
who can think and who can lead." He glanced down at his 
hands, then back up into Sin's eyes. "I know this is a 
difficult time for you, and I applaud the sense you had in 
coming to Japan to get away from your divorce with 
Christina. It means you are capable of change and 
recognizing and making the difficult choices in life. I'd like 
to offer you a chance to maximize your potential." 
Sin folded his arms across his chest. "You seem to know 
a great deal about me." Including the divorce factoid that 
went into my file only two days ago. "Your researchers 
are very good." 
"Coming from a man with your background, I take that 
as a supreme compliment. Also, with your background, 
you'd know me to be an utter fool if I did not screen people 
to learn if they are Gray agents or not." 
"Touch, Ari." Sin gave him a genuine smile. "What is 
this offer?" 
Arrigo snapped his fingers, and one of his maroon-
jacketed staff members slowly drifted over. "Mr. Handy 
here will drive you back to your hotel. We have a week-
long workshop starting at midnight. I think you will find it 
very enlightening and rewarding. If you are indeed the sort 
of man your file makes you out to be, you will avail 
yourself of this opportunity.'' 
Sin stood. "How much?" 
"Good, very good." Arrigo smiled as he took a step 
back and gave Sin some room. "Always thinking. This 
workshop is free. Your accommodations and meals will 
be provided. All you need to do is pick up a shaving kit and 
a change of clothes. We will provide uniforms for most of 
the time you are herewe do that to promote solidarity in 
our cohorts, as I am certain you understand." 
"All right, I'll do it." Sin started to offer the man his hand, 


but Arrigo had already moved beyond that range. 
"Excellent." El-Leichter glanced at the security door 
through which he had entered the auditorium. "I will go 
make arrangements. You will find this very rewarding." He 
placed his hand over the scanner plate. The neon-green 
light outlined the bones in gangrenous hues, then the door 
clicked open and El-Leichter waved. 
Sin returned the wave, then looked at his guide. "Shall 
we go, Mr. Handy?" 
"Yes, sir." The man smiled and pointed toward the door. 
"You won't regret this, sir. You'll find this the most 
interesting week of your life." 
Sin slapped him on the back. "Somehow I'm confident 
you are very, very right." 
I 

but Arrigo had already moved beyond that range. 
"Excellent." El-Leichter glanced at the security door 
through which he had entered the auditorium. "I will go 
make arrangements. You will find this very rewarding." He 
placed his hand over the scanner plate. The neon-green 
light outlined the bones in gangrenous hues, then the door 
clicked open and El-Leichter waved. 
Sin returned the wave, then looked at his guide. "Shall 
we go, Mr. Handy?" 
"Yes, sir." The man smiled and pointed toward the door. 
"You won't regret this, sir. You'll find this the most 
interesting week of your life." 
Sin slapped him on the back. "Somehow I'm confident 
you are very, very right." 
I 
Rajani kept her finger on the elevator's "Door Open" 
button as Natch had instructed her. She quickly glanced 
out at the empty lobby one level below the New Palace 
Hotel's penthouse suites. "All clear, is that right?" 
Natch popped some chewing gum. "Word up. We'll 
have you being a proper spotter in no time." Natch raked 
the lockpick in her right hand down while pressing up with 
the pick in her left. The lock next to the "Penthouse" button 
shifted slightly to the right, and Natch cursed. "Damn 
Corbin lock!" 
"What does 'Corbin' mean?" After flying to Japan 
seated next to Natch and spending her first day there with 
her, she'd gotten a lot of the woman's street argot down, 
but Corbin was a new term. 
Natch smiled gently. "Corbin is a brand name, kid." 
Natch used the pick in her left hand to probe the lock, "It 
has mushroom tumblers in 3 and 5." 
"Does this mean you cannot 'pop' it?" 
"Child, there is no lock I can't pop, Corbin or otherwise." 
Natch frowned and went back to work on the lock. "Jes 
have to be really delicate with this one. Need the touch." 
The tip of Natch's tongue appeared at the corner of her 
mouth as she concentrated. Rajani marveled at how 
Natch was able to focus on her task. Her hands moving 
with the skill of a surgeon, Natch played the pick down 
through the middle of the cylinder, then used the tension 
bar in her left hand to press up. She jiggled the tension bar, 
then raked the pick through the lock. Rajani heard a click, 
saw the cylinder twist to the left, and Natch laughed 
triumphantly. 
"Let the door go." Natch hit the "Penthouse" button. 
"We're on our way." 


Rajani did as she had been told, but frowned. "If this Mr. 
MacNeal is your contact in Tokyo, why are we breaking 
into his hotel suite?" 
"Hal called him as soon as we got in on Friday night and 
left numerous messages for him on Saturday. Either 
MacNeal is ducking us, or something happened to him." 
The elevator door to Sinclair's suite opened, and the 
two women stepped out into the foyer. Rajani smiled as 
she looked out into the opulence of Sin's accommodations. 
"This is not at all like the Hyatt, is it?" 
Natch shook her head in response to the question, and 
Rajani immediately picked up a spike in the low-grade 
hostility she's been getting from Natch throughout their 
morning's adventure. Rajani set her Yakult Swallows' 
baseball cap back on her head. "Why don't you like him?" 
Natch shrugged silently and punched the glowing red 
message button on the side of the cabinet in the foyer. 
"Jes don't, that's all." The printer dutifully spit sheets of 
paper into the tray on a shelf. She sorted through them and 
then tossed them back into the basket. "Four from Hal, 
one from Lilith, one from a guy named Kip Martin and one 
from an Erika. 'Cept for Hal's, all of them came in on 
Saturday, and Martin wants to know why MacNeal stood 
him up." 
Rajani opened herself up to the impressions in the room 
and smiled unconsciously. She had found her room at the 
Hyatt hopelessly sterile. Even the beds had nothing by 

Rajani did as she had been told, but frowned. "If this Mr. 
MacNeal is your contact in Tokyo, why are we breaking 
into his hotel suite?" 
"Hal called him as soon as we got in on Friday night and 
left numerous messages for him on Saturday. Either 
MacNeal is ducking us, or something happened to him." 
The elevator door to Sinclair's suite opened, and the 
two women stepped out into the foyer. Rajani smiled as 
she looked out into the opulence of Sin's accommodations. 
"This is not at all like the Hyatt, is it?" 
Natch shook her head in response to the question, and 
Rajani immediately picked up a spike in the low-grade 
hostility she's been getting from Natch throughout their 
morning's adventure. Rajani set her Yakult Swallows' 
baseball cap back on her head. "Why don't you like him?" 
Natch shrugged silently and punched the glowing red 
message button on the side of the cabinet in the foyer. 
"Jes don't, that's all." The printer dutifully spit sheets of 
paper into the tray on a shelf. She sorted through them and 
then tossed them back into the basket. "Four from Hal, 
one from Lilith, one from a guy named Kip Martin and one 
from an Erika. 'Cept for Hal's, all of them came in on 
Saturday, and Martin wants to know why MacNeal stood 
him up." 
Rajani opened herself up to the impressions in the room 
and smiled unconsciously. She had found her room at the 
Hyatt hopelessly sterile. Even the beds had nothing by 


Natch slowly smiled. "And I thought Hal had you along 
with me just so I could baby-sit you." She laughed and 
jammed her hands in her pockets. "Tell me about the 
others." 
Rajani freed her mind of conscious thoughts and 
immediately found herself attracted to a big chair in the 
living room. She drifted toward it and ran her hands over 
the embroidered fabric. "There was someone here of 
incredible power and presence. The impression here is 
stronger than any other in the whole place, but it is focused 
right here." Outside of my brush with Fiddleback, I have 
never felt anything this strong. 

Natch slowly smiled. "And I thought Hal had you along 
with me just so I could baby-sit you." She laughed and 
jammed her hands in her pockets. "Tell me about the 
others." 
Rajani freed her mind of conscious thoughts and 
immediately found herself attracted to a big chair in the 
living room. She drifted toward it and ran her hands over 
the embroidered fabric. "There was someone here of 
incredible power and presence. The impression here is 
stronger than any other in the whole place, but it is focused 
right here." Outside of my brush with Fiddleback, I have 
never felt anything this strong. 


"You're an anchor for him." 
"No. I'd love to be an anchor for him." Natch shook her 
head and pulled her blue Dragons baseball cap down to 
shield her eyes. "At best, I'm a brake on him, slowing him 
a bit, but he's bound for where he's bound, and there's no 
stopping him." 
Rajani sensed Natch's reluctance to continue, so she 
quickly shifted the subject. "I do not think, based on this 
stocking and the things I feel about Sinclair, that there was 
any bonding here. If not for this, I do not think I would have 
known she was here." 
Natch shrugged. "Anything that will tell us where he is?" 
Rajani moved past Natch and headed into the bedroom. 
She felt stronger impressions coming from the bed, 
as well as a hint of the woman's presence, so she stayed 
away from it. Instead, she stepped into the bathroom and 
discovered a surprise. "Natch, come here." 
"What?" 
Rajani pointed to the clear counter space on either side 
of the bathroom sink. "When I was allowed to watch 
television, I used to watch detective programs. They 
always get things like hair samples from brushes or can 
tell how much money someone makes by their choice of 
cologne." 
"Word up. This room is chilled to stuff like that, though." 
"Exactly, I think." Rajani turned to her and smiled. "In 
Hal's room, during the meeting we had this morning, I 
used the bathroom. Hal's shaving kit was all laid out nice 
and neat on the counter. He even had a little case there 
with places for everything, and it had the logo of the hop 
team he used to play for on it." 
"That's 'hoop,' Rajani." 
"Hoop, okay. The point is that Sinclair's shaving kit isn't 
here. If he'd been taken by someone, I don't think they 
would take his stuff with them, do you?" 
Natch darted back out of the bathroom, and Rajani 
heard the sound of the closet door sliding open. "Most of 
the hangers are full, and the valet service's plastic wrap is 
still on his tuxedo. Looks like maybe one business suit is 
gone. Maybe the stocking woman has our boy out playing 
when he should be working." 
"Maybe." Rajani walked from the bathroom to the 
dresser and fondled one of a pair of cufflinks sitting on top 
of it. "Could Jytte check to see if he's rented a car or 
bought train tickets or charged a gift or something?" 
Natch nodded and pointed at the phone on the bedside 
table. "Call her and ask her to start." 
"No, I can't." 
"What?" 
"Jytte acts very skittish around me." Rajani cupped the 
cufflink in her hands and shook it around. "She doesn't 


trust me. She keeps pushing me away." 
Natch laughed. "She does that to everyone, including 
herself. Ever notice how she always sits in the darkest part 
of a room and keeps out of line with a mirror?" 
Rajani shook her head. 
"Then you've not been around her much. She got 
worked over by a guy called Pygmalion. I don't know 
much about him, except that he's supposed to do with 
flesh what Michelangelo did with marble. I heard Jytte 
used to be a frumpy little mouse of a woman." 
"Is that possible? She's so beautiful now." 
The petite woman shrugged. "Don't know, but that's 
what Jytte says. She also says she doesn't remember 
anything about the Pyg-man, but I think that's because 
she isn't trying hard enough to remember. I think part of 
her secretly loves the way she looks now, which fuels her 
hatred for Pygmalion and herselfhim as the man who 
raped her body and her for letting herself be a victim. She 
doesn't want to face any of it, so she never lets anyone in 
and keeps to her machines. 
"You, you're a threat because you can muck around in 
her mind." Natch winked at her. "I know, and so does she, 
that you're not doing that. I also think she had it bad for the 
real Coyote, and when he went the way of all flesh, she 
threw herself into making sure the new Coyote would 
become everything his predecessor wanted him to be. 
With him being off and out of touch, and you arriving with 
a warning, well..." 
"It's messing with her wet-ware?" 
"You're hooked tight." Natch looked at the closet again, 
then back at Rajani. "You don't think MacNeal is out 
scrappin' with the stocking lady?" 
Rajani's hands flattened around the cufflink. "No. I think 
he went to a party in his tuxedo and was wearing these 
cufflinks at the time. He was confident and happy and in 
his element. He was doing all he could to make an 
impression, and I think he succeeded." 
"One silk legskin: Exhibit A." 
"True. I can't see him starting out so formally then 
backsliding. He would make the next outing even more 
spectacular." She glanced over her shoulder at the chair 
in the living room. "No, I think he subsequently had a 
visitor who asked him to do something for him." 
"Is he in danger, do you think?" 
"I don't know." She added the other cufflink to its mate. 
"These tell me nothing." 
Natch frowned, then slapped her forehead with her 
open right palm. "If my head weren't bolted on." 
"What?" 
Natch marched back out into the main room with 
Rajani following behind. "MacNeal is supposed to be a big 


security expert, isn't he?" 
"I guess." 
The American woman knelt down and ran her hand 
beneath the dust curtain around the base of the couch. 
"He was bound to have a gun somewhere. Needed easy 
access, but had to be located in a place where it was not 
likely to be discovered by the staff, since guns are illegal 
in Japan." 
Rajani marveled as Natch moved through the room and 
searched it thoroughly. "You've done this before?" 
"Girlfriend, I've made a tidy living off finding things folks 
don't want found." 
"What can I do?" 
Natch shrugged again, then pointed at the metal 
briefcase beside the message unit in the foyer. "It's 
possible he kept it there. Check. If it's locked, sing out." 
The Jes'da female picked up the briefcase and crouched 
slightly to balance it on her thighs. Gold-nailed thumbs 
pulled back on the buttons, and the latches snapped open. 
Rajani lifted the lid expectantly, then shut the case again. 
"Empty except for a stack of computer paper. What 
next?" 
Natch straightened up. "Computer paper?" She shook 
her head. "And you call yourself a security expert, 
MacNeal?" 
Crossing the room, Natch opened the door above the 
message center, exposing the printer. It sat on a Plexiglass 
stand that had nestled in it a stack of computer paper. 
Twisting the stand and printer around, Natch pulled on the 
bottom half of the paper stack, and it came out in one 
solid, doughnut-shaped piece. 
"I don't understand." 
"It's easy, Raj. Folks got to thinking that thieves are 
really stupid. We would take a printer or a computer, but 
leave the paper behind because it was heavy and had no 
value to a fence. They were right. As a result, though, they 
pulled a switch on the old hollow book hiding-place trick 
and took to making little hideaways in a two- or three-inch 
stack of paper." 
"So, as long as the printer didn't run out of paper..." 
"Or some clumsy thief didn't accidently knock a pile of 
paper onto the floor..." 
"The valuables would remain hidden." Rajani looked at 
the paper in Natch's hands. "No gun." 
"Right, no gun." She set the paper back in the cabinet 
and closed it up. "That means, as you figured, MacNeal 
went of his own accord and had time to take his gun with 
him." 
Rajani's left fist closed on the cufflinks. "And that 
means he knows he's walking into trouble." 





You've been watching me and testing me. Why?" 
The old man's voice took on an angry edge Coyote had 
never heard before. "You are the one spinning this fantasy. 
Why do you think I would agree to open Kanggenpo to 
you, then participate in this testing?" 
The tall man pushed off the wall and paced through his 
small cell. "You trained Crowley and, through him, learned 
of me. From him, you learned I had been one of Fiddleback's 
pets. He told you what I had done to defeat 
Fiddleback and, from the last journey he and I took 
together, he realized that my training had gone even 
further than the original Coyote had dared guess." 
He looked over at the monk. "You were afraid I was still 
one of Fiddleback's minions. If I was, you would stop me, 
is that it?" 
"You are every bit as quick as Mi-ma-yin told me." 
"Why?" 
Mong seemed to shrink as he sighed. "In 1989, I was 
sent as an envoy from Tibet to Beijing to plead with the 
government to stop the dilution of our population. I had 
hoped, with the reforms sweeping the world, that the spirit 
of freedom had truly come to my homeland. In Beijing, I 
saw many things, wondrous things, from which I had been 
isolated in Kanggenpo. I became swept up in the fervor 
and intoxicated by the prospects of liberty. 
"I was in Tiananmen Square on the 3rd and 4th of June. 
Yes, I had seen death before, but never like this. I watched 
as freedom-drunk students stepped bravely before tanks, 
knowing in their hearts that their countrymen could never 
run them over. I watched others march singing into the 
face of machinegun fire. And I was dragooned to help burn 
the bodies and hide the evidence of what happened, then 
I returned home to a new wave of repression." 
Mong wore the pain of years on his face as he looked 
at Coyote. There, in Tiananmen Square, I felt the first 
touch of the Dark Lords. I do not know if that was 
Fiddleback or another of his misbegotten brethren, but it 
showed me that malign forces did inhabit the universe. 
When Mi-ma-yin said you had been forged by one of 
them, I felt no choice but to bring you here so I could see 
for myself what you were. If, as Mi-ma-yin felt certain, you 
had been broken away from the Dark Lord's control, you 
could serve as a hideously powerful weapon to use 
against any and all of them." 
Coyote clasped his hands behind his back. "What do 
you think? Do I still belong to Fiddleback?" 
"If I thought that, you would not have recovered from 
your injuries." The monk smiled grimly. "I am not, 
however, the court of final arbitration." 
"The Yidam." Coyote rubbed his chin with his left hand. 
"This begins to make sense. The night we fought in the 


training area, he sought evidence of any special ability 
Fiddleback might have given. He thought, because of the 
advantage he had over me, I would use it. Then he had to 
save me from the gorfash because he had not made his 
decision about me yet. But why was he..." Coyote's head 
came up. "The red pulse that you shot back into Kanggenpo, 
that alerted the Yidam to the getsul's distress. 
That's why you tried to stall me and keep me back." 
"He has fought gorfash before." 
"I see. Then, two days ago, in the clutch, he came to 
provoke me and get me to betray myself. He threatened 
to kill me, but did not." Coyote gingerly brushed the 
fingertips of his right hand over the tape on his nose. "Why 
not?" 
The monk shook his head. That is a question I cannot 
answer. Only he can answer it." 
Coyote pressed his lips together into a flat line. "And I 
know where he is, so the only question I have now is how 
do I get there?" 
Mong smiled. "You knew much before you came here, 
but the exercises I forced upon you honed your skills. You 
know what you are; that is your strength. As the Yidam has 
said, if you are worthy of the answer to your question, you 
will find the way to obtain it." 
The setting sun cast the Dokhang's long shadow over 
Coyote like a shroud. He stood there with his back to the 
east gate, concentrating on the Yidam's portrait. Clad in 
boots, fatigue pants and a sleeveless black T-shirt, he 
tugged on black leather gloves and flexed his hands. A 
breeze tousled his dark hair, then died abruptly. 
You know what you are; that is your strength. In 
Mong's words, Coyote found the key that unlocked a huge 
portion of the mystery he still was to himself. He had 
known, both through what the original Coyote had told 
him and through evidence of his skills, that Fiddleback 
had been behind his training as an assassin. His predecessor 
as Coyote noted that he was one of the top 10 
assassins in the world and especially effective against 
targets that had to be hunted down. I am not merely an 
assassin. Fiddleback made me into a hunter who could 
move through the dimensions with a singleness of purpose: 
killing his enemies. 

training area, he sought evidence of any special ability 
Fiddleback might have given. He thought, because of the 
advantage he had over me, I would use it. Then he had to 
save me from the gorfash because he had not made his 
decision about me yet. But why was he..." Coyote's head 
came up. "The red pulse that you shot back into Kanggenpo, 
that alerted the Yidam to the getsul's distress. 
That's why you tried to stall me and keep me back." 
"He has fought gorfash before." 
"I see. Then, two days ago, in the clutch, he came to 
provoke me and get me to betray myself. He threatened 
to kill me, but did not." Coyote gingerly brushed the 
fingertips of his right hand over the tape on his nose. "Why 
not?" 
The monk shook his head. That is a question I cannot 
answer. Only he can answer it." 
Coyote pressed his lips together into a flat line. "And I 
know where he is, so the only question I have now is how 
do I get there?" 
Mong smiled. "You knew much before you came here, 
but the exercises I forced upon you honed your skills. You 
know what you are; that is your strength. As the Yidam has 
said, if you are worthy of the answer to your question, you 
will find the way to obtain it." 
The setting sun cast the Dokhang's long shadow over 
Coyote like a shroud. He stood there with his back to the 
east gate, concentrating on the Yidam's portrait. Clad in 
boots, fatigue pants and a sleeveless black T-shirt, he 
tugged on black leather gloves and flexed his hands. A 
breeze tousled his dark hair, then died abruptly. 
You know what you are; that is your strength. In 
Mong's words, Coyote found the key that unlocked a huge 
portion of the mystery he still was to himself. He had 
known, both through what the original Coyote had told 
him and through evidence of his skills, that Fiddleback 
had been behind his training as an assassin. His predecessor 
as Coyote noted that he was one of the top 10 
assassins in the world and especially effective against 
targets that had to be hunted down. I am not merely an 
assassin. Fiddleback made me into a hunter who could 
move through the dimensions with a singleness of purpose: 
killing his enemies. 


which he had been directed. He had seen Crowley move 
things by the force of his mind, or cause things to burst into 
flame with a thought. He also knew Crowley could use 
psychometry to gain impressions about people from 
things they had worn or owned or touched. Crowley could 
also lift thoughts from the brains of others, yet another skill 
denied him. Coyote knew he could do none of these 
things, and he suspected that Fiddleback, when the time 
came, would have provided him with the empathic equivalent 
of bloodhounds to let him begin the chase on a target. 
Coyote closed his eyes and summoned into his mind 
the image of the Yidam standing over him. Locking that 
firmly in place, he opened his eyes and began to modify 
the mental picture until it merged with the one on the wall 
of the Dukhong. He layered in the solid feeling he'd had 
in hitting the creature in Storm. He added the sound of its 
mental contact with him and the ferocity of its attacks. 
Lastly, he overlaid the tactical diagram he'd imagined in 
the clutch and changed it to fit and enfold the Yidam. 
The daylight and wind world slowly dissolved around 
Coyote. Darkness seeped in at the edges and, even 
though he remained motionless, he sensed himself moving 
forward and down into the black void he had seen in 
the temple. This is the Gonkhangthe lair of the Yidam. 
Though he had not given any thought to where a 
creature like that might live, the place in which he found 
himself surprised him. The basic architecture proved this 
place to have been part of the temple since its construction. 
Thick stone pillars supported the ceiling, and hanging 
oil lamps provided dim balls of illumination within the 
cavernous room. The dry, dusty air made the Gonkhang 
feel more like a crypt than place of worship, yet Coyote 
still felt the place once deserved reverence and respect. 
Throughout the room, Coyote saw hundreds upon 
hundreds of tiny tableaux arranged on shelves and tables. 
Some of the tables were little more than rectangular boxes 
filled with sand and rocks that had been molded into 
rolling landscapes. On these Coyote saw vast armies of 
tiny figures arrayed in battle lines, as if frozen in some 
tangible holograph on the eve of battle. 
Moving through the room in silence, Coyote recognized 
some of the armies that had been painstakingly rendered 
in miniature. Blue and gray forces vied for supremacy in 
a battle he guessed had taken place during the American 
Civil War. Brightly colored troops from a Napoleonic 
conflict dominated another shrunken battlefield. What 
could have been the bold Spartans bedeviling the Persians 
at Thermopolae appeared at his left and scale model of 
Stalingrad's tractor factory appeared on his right. 
Walking deeper and deeper into the Gonkhang, he saw 
many more battles and discovered he recognized few of 


them. Troops had been painted with strange colors, and 
their shapes had been modified so they no longer resembled 
any creature he could recognize. While part of 
him wanted to dismiss these new displays as fantasy 
encounters, the adherence to detail in the creation of the 
armies and the care with which they had been laid out told 
him that they were every bit as real as the conflicts he 
recognized. 
As he moved past huge conflagrations featuring giant 
robots and skirmishes between hordes of dinosaurian 
combatants, a shiver ran down his spine. These fights 
must have taken place in other dimensions. The scale of 
destruction is unimaginable. 

them. Troops had been painted with strange colors, and 
their shapes had been modified so they no longer resembled 
any creature he could recognize. While part of 
him wanted to dismiss these new displays as fantasy 
encounters, the adherence to detail in the creation of the 
armies and the care with which they had been laid out told 
him that they were every bit as real as the conflicts he 
recognized. 
As he moved past huge conflagrations featuring giant 
robots and skirmishes between hordes of dinosaurian 
combatants, a shiver ran down his spine. These fights 
must have taken place in other dimensions. The scale of 
destruction is unimaginable. 


"And, like Mong, in this you saw a Dark Lord?" Coyote 
realized he'd unconsciously balled his fists, so he forced 
them open. "Yet when you tried to explain what you had 
seen, you had no evidence, and no one would believe your 
unsubstantiated conspiracy theory." 
The Yidam nodded. "When I learned of a mission to 
another staryour starmy wife and I volunteered. I had 
to learn if there were other races in other star systems, and 
if they were suffering the depredations of Dark Lords as 
well, or if they were free of such evil influences. 
"It turns out I was correct in suspecting that a Dark Lord 
was working here." His red eyes narrowed to bloody 
crescents. "I was mistaken in bringing my family into 
danger." 
Coyote tugged at the hem of his left glove. "You said I 
meant to ask what you had been. Now I ask my original 
question again: What are you?" 
The Yidam smiled most grimly and his voice lowered. 
"I am now Kanggenpo's Yidam." His taloned feet spread 
out as he sank into a fighting stance. "And if you are still 
a creature of Fiddleback, I will be your death." 

"And, like Mong, in this you saw a Dark Lord?" Coyote 
realized he'd unconsciously balled his fists, so he forced 
them open. "Yet when you tried to explain what you had 
seen, you had no evidence, and no one would believe your 
unsubstantiated conspiracy theory." 
The Yidam nodded. "When I learned of a mission to 
another staryour starmy wife and I volunteered. I had 
to learn if there were other races in other star systems, and 
if they were suffering the depredations of Dark Lords as 
well, or if they were free of such evil influences. 
"It turns out I was correct in suspecting that a Dark Lord 
was working here." His red eyes narrowed to bloody 
crescents. "I was mistaken in bringing my family into 
danger." 
Coyote tugged at the hem of his left glove. "You said I 
meant to ask what you had been. Now I ask my original 
question again: What are you?" 
The Yidam smiled most grimly and his voice lowered. 
"I am now Kanggenpo's Yidam." His taloned feet spread 
out as he sank into a fighting stance. "And if you are still 
a creature of Fiddleback, I will be your death." 
Sinclair MacNeal raised his hand and smiled semi-
benignly at the instructor standing in his little study group. 
"Ms. Markgraf, I'm not doubting what you're telling us 
about how the United States government shot down and 
recovered a Gray UFO off Long Island in 1989, but I 
question the logic of believing in it having happened. If 
you'll follow me, you've told us that James Forrestal, 
secretary of Defense for the US, was one of the first 
abductees and that he was later killed by the CIA before 
he could go public with the information about the Grays. 
That means, especially with the increasing number of 
abductions going on in the 1980s, that the government 
knew they were powerless to stop the Grays, right?" 
The matronly Aryan woman rested her hands on her 
hips. "So, what is your point, Mr. MacNeal?" 
"Well, ma'am, if I knew someone could kidnap me or 
my family or my friends and really mess them up, and that 
I would be powerless to prevent the kidnapping and 
unable to help them out later, and I am going to piss that 
someone off?" Sin glanced across the circle at the 
thoughtful Japanese youth sitting there. "I mean, I understand 
a ruler's desire to keep his people safe, but there is 
no logic in shooting an alien craft when retribution is likely 
to come quickly and be nasty." 
Ms. Markgraf smiled confidently. "Perhaps the presi



dent at the time had already been kidnapped and implanted. 
Perhaps he was acting under the orders of the 
Grays." 
"Excuse me, Ms. Markgraf," Ryuhito began as he 
leaned forward, "but there is no logic to the Grays ordering 
humans to shoot down a Gray ship. Even if a Gray leader 
wanted the commander of that craft dead, the wisdom in 
showing humanity it possessed the technology necessary 
to shoot down one of their craft must be questioned." 
"But, Highness, you and Mr. MacNeal continue to make 
the error of viewing the Grays while using human logic. 
They think in an utterly alien pattern, one that makes little 
sense to us." 
Ryuhito nodded sharply. "This is apparent, Ms. Markgraf, 
because your explanation of their motives is utterly 
without logic. At the same time you claim we shot down 
a people possessing crafts capable of spanning the gulf 
between stars, humans were beginning the successful use 
of genetic therapy to combat congenital defects. You 
claim the Grays came here to steal our genetic material 
to replenish their own deteriorating DNA, but the chances 
of such an exchange working are miniscule. Moreover, 
the level of technology needed for them to travel here and 
determine that our DNA was harvestable and useful to 
them is well beyond that level needed to solve the 
problems for which they were going to steal from us." 
Sin nodded and leaped into the fray. "Another thing, 
Ms. Markgraf, you've said we had high-tech weapons 
being developed to take out that alien craft. I think you said 
one was a sound-based weapon developed under the 
codename JOSHUA. You said it was used to shoot down 
the Long Island UFO, yet there is no record of that same 
weapon being used in the Gulf War with Iraq, or in any 
conflict, for that matter." 
Looking flustered, the large woman fingered the whistle 
hanging around her neck on a yellow cord, "It only works 
on Grays." 
"Bah, nonsense." Ryuhito imperiously waved away her 
explanation. "JOSHUA was a weapon that concentrated 
sound waves. That technology has been used for the past 
25 years for ultrasound scans and to pulverize kidney 
stones. High and sharp sounds have been employed in 
various forms for crowd control. Repetitious playing of 
simple rock 'n' roll records were enough to drive Manuel 
Noriega from the Papal Nuncio during the American 
invasion of Panama. What works on kidney stones would 
work on bunkers, and Saddam Hussein was not that 
different from Noriega. If the United States had possessed 
such power in 1989, they would have used it in 1991." 
"Well, well..." Ms. Markgraf wiped her forehead on the 
short sleeve of her gray T-shirt. "I think these are good 


questions, and you should pose them to Mr. El-Leichter. 
It is time for you to break anyway and dress for dinner, so 
let us leave things that way until later." 
Sin followed her gaze as she looked up at the figure 
standing in the picture window overlooking the large 
training arena. Arrigo El-Leichter waved benevolently at 
her and the study circle sitting in the middle of the 
AstroTurf field. He nodded at her, then gestured as if to 
urge her to continue. 
Ms. Markgraf swallowed audibly, then licked sweat 
from her upper lip. "As I said, you will be dismissed." She 
raised the whistle toward her lips and gave them a short 
blast that lacked the sadistic intensity of earlier in the day. 
"Give me four laps, then go to your rooms. I will see you 
this evening, and you will have answers then." 
Sin glanced up again at El-Leichter and, despite the 
distance, saw a self-satisfied smile on the man's face. 

questions, and you should pose them to Mr. El-Leichter. 
It is time for you to break anyway and dress for dinner, so 
let us leave things that way until later." 
Sin followed her gaze as she looked up at the figure 
standing in the picture window overlooking the large 
training arena. Arrigo El-Leichter waved benevolently at 
her and the study circle sitting in the middle of the 
AstroTurf field. He nodded at her, then gestured as if to 
urge her to continue. 
Ms. Markgraf swallowed audibly, then licked sweat 
from her upper lip. "As I said, you will be dismissed." She 
raised the whistle toward her lips and gave them a short 
blast that lacked the sadistic intensity of earlier in the day. 
"Give me four laps, then go to your rooms. I will see you 
this evening, and you will have answers then." 
Sin glanced up again at El-Leichter and, despite the 
distance, saw a self-satisfied smile on the man's face. 

Arrigo El-Leichter turned from the window and walked 
over to his XR-8500 desk. His left index finger stabbed 
the curtain icon on the LCD screen, and the curtains 
slid closed. He brought his hand down to another icon 
and hit it. 
"Yes, sir?" asked the disembodied voice of his secretary. 
"Janny, dear, I will leave from here directly for the 
dinner tonight. You can finish up now, then go off home. 
Please set the phones up so I won't be disturbed." 
"Yes, sir." An electronic hum filled the air as the woman 
hesitated. "Does that include your wife's private line?" 
Arrigo's nostrils flared for a moment, then he regained 
control. "Yes, Janny, it does. Call Raoul and tell him I don't 
think it is necessary for my wife to attend me tonight. And, 
Janny, prepare yourself because you will join me for 
dinner tonight." 
"Yes, sir! Thank you, Mr. El-Leichter. 
"Ari from now on, Janny." 
"Yes, Ari." 
The tall man punched the lockout button on his desktop. 
Locks on the doors and windows snapped shut, then 
the surface of the desk changed. A darkness swallowed 
the normal icons on it and replaced them with strange 
sigils and images that appeared to be the stuff of nightmares. 
His hand drifted above all of them, then he touched 
a spot on the screen that had no visible icon on it at all. 


The glass-panel doors on the centermost, floor-toceiling 
bookcase opposite his desk closed and locked 
tight. The top of it tipped toward the floor and, like a 
Murphy bed, the whole case rotated toward the ground. 
Numerous dark cables snaked from a hidden area behind 
it and might have appeared, had Arrigo ever allowed a 
casual observer into the room, to be electrical lines. He 
knew this was because, in their current dormant state, 
they looked black, exactly like most power cords. 
As the bookcase touched down and locked into position 
on the floor, the substance clinging to the back of it 
quivered. Arrigo recalled thinking of it as black Jell-O 
when he first saw it, but that opinion had been modified by 
years of contact with it. At its heart he saw a green glow 
that began to pulse sluggishly. Ghostly green lights shot 
off through it, backlighting fibrous structures in the slowly 
swelling matrix. The cables thickened and, as they did, 
began to glow with jade energy. 
As the green light began to pump faster, the glossy goo 
shifted shape. Sharply pointed things began to poke up 
like skeletal fingers. They never managed to pierce the 
gangrenous gelatin. Instead, it spread out between them 
like fleshy webbing, and that webbing, as it thinned to 
translucency, revealed the connective tissues binding the 
tall spires together into a bizarre, slime-laden skeletal 
hand. 
Arrigo licked his dry lips and tried to tell himself he had 
nothing to fear, this time. Removing his clothes, he 
assured himself he had done well. He had done his 
master's bidding and even exceeded it. His master would 
be proud. He knew it, and he knew he would be rewarded. 
He stepped forward and lowered his right foot into the 
ameboid mass. He fought the shiver that the first cold 
touch always brought with it, but he failed. Deep down 
inside he knew he was reacting to more than the temperature. 
Despite the way the goop pulled heat away from him, 
he began to perspire. 
Turning around slowly to face his desk, he lowered his 
body onto the giant palm and pressed his spine against 
the elongated middle finger. He let his head drift back until 
he felt the ooze's cold kiss through his hair. He shifted once 
to more comfortably accommodate his shrinking scrotum, 
then he raised his hands and crossed his arms across 
his chest. Capping each shoulder with the opposite hand, 
he closed his eyes and forced himself to breath normally. 
The throbbing began at the base of the chair, but 
quickly started up through the middle finger. Inch by inch 
it vibrated its way up his spine, and he found himself 
shivering as it reached the middle of his shoulders. His 
scalp began to itch as the vibration rattled his teeth. At that 
point he clamped his jaw shut tight and concentrated on 


breathing in and out of his nose. Like a horse snorting after 
a gallop, Arrigo El-Leichter braced himself. 
Greenish sludge dripped languidly down over him from 
above. A thick, choking mask poured over his face and 
the fetid scent of decay filled his nose. He wanted to 
scream, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Tasting 
that stuff, he knew, was the only thing worse than smelling 
it. It filled his ears, then drenched his shoulders and clung 
like honey to his chest. It coursed down his body to his 
loins, then cascaded down over his legs. 
Once it had coated him completely, it became even 
more turgid. His wife, having once discovered him in 
communion with his master, had told her doctors he 
looked trapped within a diseased placenta. The image 
had not much pleased him, nor had the complication of 
having to deal with her because of her discovery, but he 
did acknowledge the accuracy of it. Through this I have 
been born again into power. 

breathing in and out of his nose. Like a horse snorting after 
a gallop, Arrigo El-Leichter braced himself. 
Greenish sludge dripped languidly down over him from 
above. A thick, choking mask poured over his face and 
the fetid scent of decay filled his nose. He wanted to 
scream, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Tasting 
that stuff, he knew, was the only thing worse than smelling 
it. It filled his ears, then drenched his shoulders and clung 
like honey to his chest. It coursed down his body to his 
loins, then cascaded down over his legs. 
Once it had coated him completely, it became even 
more turgid. His wife, having once discovered him in 
communion with his master, had told her doctors he 
looked trapped within a diseased placenta. The image 
had not much pleased him, nor had the complication of 
having to deal with her because of her discovery, but he 
did acknowledge the accuracy of it. Through this I have 
been born again into power. 


left after a bad divorce and is vulnerable. 

left after a bad divorce and is vulnerable. 

Have mercy, master! 
My merzy you have, cretin. Lorica waz mine until the 
Witch lost it Jaeger is using it! Clearly, this MacNeal is 
Jaeger'z agent. Jaeger haz hidden himzelf from me and, 
thereby, thinkz himzelf immune to my influenze. He will 
learn the folly of that azzumption, and the man he has 
plazed into my cuztody will zerve az the bait that will lure 
him out of hiding. 
Master, I will devise a program of torture to wrack the 
most out of him, and that will attract Jaeger. Arrigo 
smiled at his own cleverness. Ms. Markgraf will be most 
appreciative of a chance to avenge herself upon him. 

The membrane at the top of his head rose up, then 
twacked sharply down on his skull Have you learned 
nothing? If Jaeger choze him, he will be dangerouz. Kill 
him and dizpoze of the body. Jaeger will know where he 
waz, and he will come to zettle the zcore. 

Arrigo shuddered as he remembered Jaeger and the 
man's skill and area of expertise. Master, Jaeger was very 
good at killing. I do not relish being the focus of his anger. 
You dizappoint me, pet I reward loyalty. Yez, Jaeger 
will come for you, but I will protect you. I will let you put 
on a dizplay of power that will bring Jaeger back to me or 
deztroy him. That demonstration will win me the godling 
az well, and with him belonging to me, there iz nothing 
than can ever ztop me. 

Sin and Ryuhito shared polite laughter over a very 
poor joke made by another member of their study 
circle. While all wearing the maroon and gray uniforms 
provided by Galbro, everyone had seemed to Sin to be 
on a rough par. Gathered for dinner, on the other hand, 
and wearing their own clothes, quality and sense made 
itself readily apparent. 
Sin, dressing more to his role as a corporator than he 
might otherwise, had chosen a pair of slacks with suspenders 
and a conservative shirt. At the last minute, he 
added the wrist recorder that Lilith had given him because 
he noticed Ryuhito also wore one of the devices. While the 
imperial prince had been cordial during the study group 
sessions, Sin had not really had a chance to speak 
informally with him. He hoped that showing an interest in 
the latest technological toys would make the prince open 
up and see him as an ally. 


The two of them stood on the white crushed gravel that 
paved the walkways and central area of the Khmer 
Courtyard. Standing behind them, its stony smile unchanging, 
a copy of the Lokeshvara from Ankor Wat 
formed the centerpiece of the whole courtyard. Sin saw a 
circular line worked around the flat base on which he 
stood, as if the head were placed on an elevator for raising 
and lowering. 
"I wonder if they move it for volleyball games." 
Ryuhito looked over at him and smiled. "Possibly, 
though I think it more likely they shipped it in and loaded 
it here from below." He indicated the thick trees in the 
courtyard. "Bringing it in, even by helicopter, would have 
been difficult." 
"Good point." Sin ran his hand over the smooth stone. 
"Nice copy." 
"It would be, Sinclair, but it is an original. Good evening." 
Arrigo El-Leichter, wearing a more formal version of his 
paramilitary uniform from Friday night, executed a slight 
bow. He turned to the stunningly beautiful brunette beside 
him and smiled. "May I present my executive secretary, 
Janet Pigot." 
Sin had to restrain himself from doing a double-take. 
The tall, obviously self-assured woman with El-Leichter 
bore no resemblance to the mental image he'd constructed 
from Kip's description of her. Her smooth cheeks 
bore no trace of childhood acne scars. As wonderful as 
Miko might be for old Kip, there's no way he would have 
seen this woman more valuable as a secretary than as a 
bedmate. 

The two of them stood on the white crushed gravel that 
paved the walkways and central area of the Khmer 
Courtyard. Standing behind them, its stony smile unchanging, 
a copy of the Lokeshvara from Ankor Wat 
formed the centerpiece of the whole courtyard. Sin saw a 
circular line worked around the flat base on which he 
stood, as if the head were placed on an elevator for raising 
and lowering. 
"I wonder if they move it for volleyball games." 
Ryuhito looked over at him and smiled. "Possibly, 
though I think it more likely they shipped it in and loaded 
it here from below." He indicated the thick trees in the 
courtyard. "Bringing it in, even by helicopter, would have 
been difficult." 
"Good point." Sin ran his hand over the smooth stone. 
"Nice copy." 
"It would be, Sinclair, but it is an original. Good evening." 
Arrigo El-Leichter, wearing a more formal version of his 
paramilitary uniform from Friday night, executed a slight 
bow. He turned to the stunningly beautiful brunette beside 
him and smiled. "May I present my executive secretary, 
Janet Pigot." 
Sin had to restrain himself from doing a double-take. 
The tall, obviously self-assured woman with El-Leichter 
bore no resemblance to the mental image he'd constructed 
from Kip's description of her. Her smooth cheeks 
bore no trace of childhood acne scars. As wonderful as 
Miko might be for old Kip, there's no way he would have 
seen this woman more valuable as a secretary than as a 
bedmate. 

Before he could move around toward where Ryuhito 
and El-Leichter were beginning to talk, Mr. Handy tapped 
him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Mr. MacNeal, but there 
is an urgent call for you from a Ms. Acres. It came through 
on one of our trunk lines, so I had it transferred to one of 
the classrooms. If you will follow me." 
Sin nodded. What could Lilith want? Has something 


happened to Coyote? He looked up as Handy turned right 
when he should have gone left. "I thought all the classrooms 
were over in the east wing." 
"The basic ones are, sir." Handy paused next to a 
security door with a keypad beside it. "These are the 
advanced classrooms and are closer. It will be faster, sir." 

happened to Coyote? He looked up as Handy turned right 
when he should have gone left. "I thought all the classrooms 
were over in the east wing." 
"The basic ones are, sir." Handy paused next to a 
security door with a keypad beside it. "These are the 
advanced classrooms and are closer. It will be faster, sir." 

Suddenly, as he crossed to the doorway, it hit him. 


"Holy shit! Galbro is the place Coyote sent me to find. That 
means this is a finishing school for assassins, among other 
things, and that means..." That means I wish I had more 
than 14 bullets. 

"Holy shit! Galbro is the place Coyote sent me to find. That 
means this is a finishing school for assassins, among other 
things, and that means..." That means I wish I had more 
than 14 bullets. 

At the far end of the secured corridor, he entered a 
secretarial office full of desks with covered typewriters and 
retro-styled blocky, black phones. Except for a man in 
overalls spreading tools all over the desk, the room was 
empty. The man looked up as Sin came through the 
security door, but Sin just nodded at him and continued 
on his way. 
"Wait a minute, buddy, what are you doing here?" 
"I'm on an errand for Mr. El-Leichter," Sin gave him a 
smile. "Bitch, isn't it? Me doing errands and you wrestling 
with that Migoyan typer while he's out dining with the 
customers." 
"You got that right. These things never quite work right 
when they're switched from Cyrillicleast they could 
have done was buy Estonian, you know?" The man 
wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "Don't mind El-Leichter 
chatting up the folks that pay our wages, but spending a 
bit to get some Smith-Coronas or Sonys in here would 
make my life easier." 

Getting out of here alive would do the same to my life. 

Sin just shrugged and kept on straight down the center 
aisle toward the glass double doors at the room's far end. 
"That's true, but then they'd just find something else for 
you to do, eh?" 
"You got that right, dammit." The man smiled. "Have 
a good day. Don't let the Grays get you." 
Too late! Two uniformed security officers laughed as 
they pushed their way through the doors. One had a 
rubberized black body bag slung over his shoulder and 
held his AKM by the pistol-grip. The other had his 
automatic rifle dangling from his shoulder by the sling. 
Both stopped dead in their tracks as they realized the man 
they'd come to carry off was more ambulatory than he 
had any right to be. 
Sin brought the Beretta around and clicked the safety 
down with his thumb. He jerked the trigger through the first 
double-action around, not caring for finesse because he 
knew, at the short range, he couldn't miss. The first round 
hit the man with the body bag in the shoulder and the 
second punched through his chest right below the ribs. 


Before the shell casing had hit the floor, Sin shifted his 
gun to cover the second man. The Galbro guard dove 
behind a secretary's desk, and Sin heard the sound of the 
AKM's charging lever being pulled back. Having neither 
the time or inclination for a shoot-out with an automatic 
weapon at point-blank range, he dropped to one knee and 
triggered a three-shot volley that punched through the 
desk's lower edge. The second bullet started a scream 
that the third one ended, and Sin sprinted from the office. 
The second he hit the hallway he wanted to kick himself 
for not grabbing at least one of the AKMs. He hesitated for 
a moment and debated going back, but hearing shouts 
from both ends of the corridor prompted a different course 
of action. Turning to his left, he planted a kick above the 
lock of an office door. 
The door jamb splintered as his kick drove the deadbolt 
back through it, and he found himself in a small room with 
a conference table and four chairs. He instantly knew the 
Formica-topped table wouldn't offer him any cover, but 
that mattered not at all. Above the four-foot high, exterior 
cinderblock wall, tall windows offered him an easy out. 
One of the chairs went sailing through glass, then he 
leaped up on the table and out through the hole. 
Nuts, this was a mistake! Sin landed in a crouch on the 
crushed stone paving a garden patio. Forty feet across at 
the widest point, it had a 12-foot-tall cinderblock wall 
between him and freedom. Little jungle oases and gurgling 
streams combined with patio furniture to make the 
place seem relaxing, but it did nothing for Sin. Aside from 
a big brick barbeque to his right, the place offered little by 
way of cover. 
A commanding shout from the conference room he'd 
just left sent him into a long, diving roll to the barbeque. 
AKM bullets nibbled away at the whitewashed and soot-
stained construction, singing metallically as they ricocheted 
off the cast-iron grill. He heard other bullets whiz 
past and saw them chip bits and pieces off the Galbro wall 
backstopping him. 
Putting his back against the bricks, he pulled his knees 
up and licked the sweat off his upper lip. You've done it 
now. You've got 20 feet to a wall that, if you're lucky, you 
can grab the top of with a running start. Arrayed against 
you, you have a handful of men with automatic weapons. 
They probably have radios and are even now calling in 
fire support 

Before the shell casing had hit the floor, Sin shifted his 
gun to cover the second man. The Galbro guard dove 
behind a secretary's desk, and Sin heard the sound of the 
AKM's charging lever being pulled back. Having neither 
the time or inclination for a shoot-out with an automatic 
weapon at point-blank range, he dropped to one knee and 
triggered a three-shot volley that punched through the 
desk's lower edge. The second bullet started a scream 
that the third one ended, and Sin sprinted from the office. 
The second he hit the hallway he wanted to kick himself 
for not grabbing at least one of the AKMs. He hesitated for 
a moment and debated going back, but hearing shouts 
from both ends of the corridor prompted a different course 
of action. Turning to his left, he planted a kick above the 
lock of an office door. 
The door jamb splintered as his kick drove the deadbolt 
back through it, and he found himself in a small room with 
a conference table and four chairs. He instantly knew the 
Formica-topped table wouldn't offer him any cover, but 
that mattered not at all. Above the four-foot high, exterior 
cinderblock wall, tall windows offered him an easy out. 
One of the chairs went sailing through glass, then he 
leaped up on the table and out through the hole. 
Nuts, this was a mistake! Sin landed in a crouch on the 
crushed stone paving a garden patio. Forty feet across at 
the widest point, it had a 12-foot-tall cinderblock wall 
between him and freedom. Little jungle oases and gurgling 
streams combined with patio furniture to make the 
place seem relaxing, but it did nothing for Sin. Aside from 
a big brick barbeque to his right, the place offered little by 
way of cover. 
A commanding shout from the conference room he'd 
just left sent him into a long, diving roll to the barbeque. 
AKM bullets nibbled away at the whitewashed and soot-
stained construction, singing metallically as they ricocheted 
off the cast-iron grill. He heard other bullets whiz 
past and saw them chip bits and pieces off the Galbro wall 
backstopping him. 
Putting his back against the bricks, he pulled his knees 
up and licked the sweat off his upper lip. You've done it 
now. You've got 20 feet to a wall that, if you're lucky, you 
can grab the top of with a running start. Arrayed against 
you, you have a handful of men with automatic weapons. 
They probably have radios and are even now calling in 
fire support 


getting sloppy while doing it. 
Popping up to his knees, he snapped off two shots at the 
man framed in the window. The first bullet hit the window 
sill and sprayed lead fragments into the room. The other 
hit the standing guard in the neck. It ripped a hole through 
his carotid artery, allowing blood to geyser out as the man 
pitched backward and out of sight. 
Sin tossed himself forward onto his stomach and 
started working backward. As he did so, he glanced back 
behind himself, then forward again. He brought his gaze 
up to sweep the edge of the wall just as another of the 
Galbro guards gained the top of it, crouched and pointed 
her AKM at him. 
Their fingers tightened on triggers at the same moment. 
Sin's first shot hit the wall about a foot below her, but the 
second blew through her right thigh. The third hit the 
magazine on her AKM and skipped down to punch 
through her stomach. She toppled back off the wall, her 
gun's flaming muzzle making an arc through the evening 
sky. 
Her aim had likewise started low, but the automatic 
rifle's recoil walked the line of fire right across his legs. 
Only one bullet hit, and Sin screamed as it shattered his 
shinbone. Minor wound, you can survive it! he told 
himself in between the waves of pain rippling up his spine 
and into his brain. In their trough, he found his whole lower 
body had gone numb. 
Shit. Oh, shit. He grit his teeth against the pain and 
watched the dark stain spreading across his pant leg. Five 
bullets left, an infinite number of guards, a hole in my leg 
and a wall that might as well be a mile high. He swallowed 
hard and tasted fear in his suddenly dry mouth. It can't get 
worse. 

getting sloppy while doing it. 
Popping up to his knees, he snapped off two shots at the 
man framed in the window. The first bullet hit the window 
sill and sprayed lead fragments into the room. The other 
hit the standing guard in the neck. It ripped a hole through 
his carotid artery, allowing blood to geyser out as the man 
pitched backward and out of sight. 
Sin tossed himself forward onto his stomach and 
started working backward. As he did so, he glanced back 
behind himself, then forward again. He brought his gaze 
up to sweep the edge of the wall just as another of the 
Galbro guards gained the top of it, crouched and pointed 
her AKM at him. 
Their fingers tightened on triggers at the same moment. 
Sin's first shot hit the wall about a foot below her, but the 
second blew through her right thigh. The third hit the 
magazine on her AKM and skipped down to punch 
through her stomach. She toppled back off the wall, her 
gun's flaming muzzle making an arc through the evening 
sky. 
Her aim had likewise started low, but the automatic 
rifle's recoil walked the line of fire right across his legs. 
Only one bullet hit, and Sin screamed as it shattered his 
shinbone. Minor wound, you can survive it! he told 
himself in between the waves of pain rippling up his spine 
and into his brain. In their trough, he found his whole lower 
body had gone numb. 
Shit. Oh, shit. He grit his teeth against the pain and 
watched the dark stain spreading across his pant leg. Five 
bullets left, an infinite number of guards, a hole in my leg 
and a wall that might as well be a mile high. He swallowed 
hard and tasted fear in his suddenly dry mouth. It can't get 
worse. 


The echoes of distant malevolent laughter shook Rajani 
awake. Instantly, one of Hal's half-jest warnings about 
earthquakes sprang to mind, and she rolled off her bed 
and stumbled to a doorway. Bracing herself halfway in 
and out of the bathroom's door frame, she felt a sharp pain 
in the palm of her left hand. Slumping to the right, she 
opened her hand saw blue-black blood welling up around 
a pair of gold cufflinks. 
She slid down the door jamb to the floor and shifted the 
pieces of jewelry to her right hand. She sucked at the blood 


from the wound, then looked at it again. Little cut. She 
concentrated, and the hole sealed itself over. She smiled 
and stood again, tugging the fabric of her one-piece 
bathing-suit back down to cover the sides of her buttocks. 
Hal had asked her to stay behind in the hotel, ostensibly 
to answer the phone if Sinclair MacNeal decided to return 
any of the calls for him. Hal himself went out to help the 
Daizaimoku Ospreys in a workoutfirming up their 
coverwhile Bat took Natch with him to prowl the Tokyo 
underworld. Jytte had locked herself away in her room 
with all sorts of electronic equipment, and Rajani had been 
given strict orders not to disturb her. 
Tired of staring at the phone for hours, she arranged for 
her calls to be transferred down to the hotel's pool. As it 
was early on Sunday evening, she had the pool all to 
herself and swam laps to burn off the frustration she felt. 
She had left her stasis tube to warn Coyote of the danger 
from Fiddleback, but she found herself unable to get that 
message to him. While she knew she was unsuited to any 
of the jobs the other members of Coyote's cadre had 
undertaken, the fact that she was left behind angered her. 
Feeling exhausted, she returned to her room and fell 
asleep with Sinclair's cufflinks in her hand. Sitting down 
again on the edge of the bed, she closed her hands on 
them and opened her mind. Please, Sinclair, call me. 
She looked at the phone expectantly, but she knew that 
without a solid clue as to where he was, the chances of her 
message getting anywhere close to him was nil. She 
concentrated and listened for the echoes of her message, 
then let her mind drift out and, in imitation of the crystalline 
seeker drones, she tried to match the sensations in the 
cufflinks with those of a person in Tokyo's concrete heart. 
She did not find Sinclair, but another message blasted 
through her brain for agonizing seconds before she swung 
her defenses into place. She recognized the thought 
patterns instantly and knew it had been his laughter that 
so rudely woke her up. Fiddleback is here! Worse yet, the 
frggment of message she got from him was tinged with 
Sinclair's aura: "Kill him, and dispose of the body." 
She closed her eyes and instantly willed herself to look 
at things from an empathic point of view. The walls 
surrounding her exploded outward, and her viewpoint 
rose like a rocket through the roof of the hotel. Tokyo 
became reduced into a neon vector-graphic maze with 
millions and millions of glowing lights to mark every living 
creature in it. 
From above and behind her she saw bolt after bolt of 
green energy lancing down into a glowing malachite 
sphere in the heart of the island in Tokyo Bay. She looked 
back up to the energy's source and saw a shiny black 
pearl with a fiery green corona surrounding it. A hot green 


spot whirled through the middle of it, flashing out the 
beams that shot down into the city. 
Looking at it, she saw a companion sphere halfway 
across the sky from it, then another above it and another 
below it. Barely visible against the black sky, she caught 
the faint outline of an oval, and she suddenly realized the 
spheres were eyes and the oval a head. 
A weak green signal from below rose up to the image 
of Fiddleback, then the monster's icon vanished. Looking 
back toward the island, she saw the green sphere begin to 
dull. As its color faded, she saw a light that matched the 
cufflinks. Sinclair is there, and they are going to kill him. 
Fighting the wrenching sensation of nausea, she forced 
herself back into her body. She tugged a pair of jeans on, 
stepped into some sneakers and darted out of her room 
without giving thought to calling the others or even taking 
the new leather jacket Natch had talked her into buying. 
She hit the button summoning the elevator, but after 
waiting impatiently for 15 seconds, she took the stairs and 
raced down five floors to the street level. 
Dashing through the lobby, she turned sideways and 
squeezed through the slowly opening automatic glass 
doors. A liveried doorman stared at her with surprise on 
his face, then composed himself. He turned and pointed 
to a taxi, then summoned it when Rajani nodded. 
The taxi pulled up beside her, and the doors slid open 
on a cushion of air. The little green light on the dashboard 
turned red as she climbed in. From the back seat she 
pointed out toward the bay. That way, the island, go!" 
The old driver look at her, then off where she was 
pointing. "Kimpunshima, hai? " 
"Go, go!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a 
handful of crumpled yen-notes and dolmarks and threw 
them down into his lap. "Go!" 
She barely noticed the wave of happiness pouring off 
the man as the taxi lurched forward. She didn't hear the 
squeal of rubber as he took off, nor did she feel the beaded 
seatcovers as the G-forces pressed her back into the seat. 
The garish neon lights strobing past made no impression 
on her because she had retreated deep inside and had 
deadened her external senses to concentrate on the 
cufflinks and their connection to Sinclair MacNeal. 
Holding them in her hands, and pressing her hands tight 
between her knees, she focused her consciousness down 
and pushed it through the cufflinks and out again. As she 
did so, she visualized an ethereal thread winding aimlessly 
through the city. Shooting energy into it, she brightened 
it and forced it to become more substantial. Like an empty 
hose with water being pumped through it, the thread 
plumped and straightened out. 
Filling it full, she made contact. 


At once she felt elated and frustrated. The link worked 
to let her know where he was and what he was feeling, but 
she could not communicate directly with him. She remembered 
one time when Dr. Chandra had showed her 
how to build a telephone with two paper cups, two buttons 
and string. While the makeshift device did transmit sound, 
it was not sturdy enough for serious communication. 
At least he's safe right now! She took heart in that and 
anchored her end of the link in the back of her mind. 
Opening her eyes, she looked out and, between shoreline 
warehouses, saw the brooding island that dominated the 
harbor. "There!" 
"Hai, Kimpunshima, hai." The driver steered his hack 
to the right, cutting off a lane of traffic and popped down 
a side street. Turning to the left, he raced through rows of 
warehouses. He deftly dodged weathered crates and 
trashpiles. All the while he laughed aloud and kept up a 
running commentary of which Rajani caught little and 
understood even less. 
A feeling of doubt, of hesitant confusion, shot down the 
link. Too little information came through for her to decipher 
it, but she did pick out the image of a telephone. Yes, 
call. Then it struck her that even if he did call, there would 
be no one there to answer it. 
She pounded her fist on the top of the front seat. "Faster, 
faster." 
The cab took a right on two wheels and merged via the 
shoulder lane onto the Kimpunshima bridge. Tall sodium 
lamps sank the whole bridge into a pinkish-gray. The 
cabbie shouted curses at other drivers and swerved wildly 
in and out of traffic. Finally, he broke clear of the pack and 
punched the accelerator. Reaching the far end of the 
bridge, he hit his brakes enough to bring his speed back 
into the low hundreds of kilometers per hour and steered 
into the heart of Kimpunshima. 
To Rajani, the only difference between the island and 
the city of Tokyo itself was the intensity of feelings she had 
coming through the link. Danger! She slapped the passenger-
side window. "This way! We're close now. Hurry!" 
The driver dutifully took the next right and came to a 
screeching halt as the dozen members of a bosozoku 
biker gang ran their big American motorcycles around in 
a circle in the middle of the street. Clad in black leather and 
chromed chains, they called derisively to pedestrians and 
brandished chains to threaten the cars they had stopped. 
The sensation of fear sizzling down the link nearly 
overwhelmed Rajani. She tore at the door handle and 
opened the cab's rear door just in time to flatten one of the 
bikers. Stepping on the stunned man's chest, she vaulted 
from the cab and ran down the street. She heard people 
yelling at her and the sound of motorcycle engines being 


gunned, but they meant nothing as fear and surprise 
invaded her through the link. 
Running as fast as she could, Rajani cut through alleys 
and vaulted fences. She chose her path unconsciously, 
letting the growing strength of the link reel her in. Through 
it she gained a sense of water, so she cut toward the 
shoreline. As she came out of an alley and into the grassy 
wedge of a park, she saw a jeeplike security vehicle pull 
up beside a cinderblock wall. 
A woman got out of the vehicle with a rifle in hand and 
climbed up onto the hood. From there she stepped onto 
the roof, then jumped over to the top of the wall. Rajani 
heard gunshots, then saw the woman crouch and bring 
what the Blood Crips had shown her to be an AKM up to 
her shoulder. 
"Sinclair!" she screamed as foot-long flames shot from 
the automatic rifle's muzzle. Rajani saw a secondary 
spark, then the woman flew back off the wall. She landed 
hard on the car's roof, then bounced off and lay dead in the 
street. He got her! 
The moment of triumph Rajani felt in that died as shock 
and pain crashed in on her through the link. It pounded at 
her. It would have driven her to her knees, but she caught 
herself on the security vehicle open doorway. Despair and 
resignation flowed through the link like blood through a 
sliced artery in the pain's wake. No, I won't let you die! 
Rajani scooped up the AKM and cleared the damaged 
clip. She picked another one up from the ground where 
they had spilled from the woman's ammo pouch and 
jammed it home. Cranking the charging lever back and 
letting it snap forward, she leaped up onto the hood, 
clambered onto the roof, then made the short leap to the 
cinderblock wall. 
Gunsmoke filled the courtyard below her. Off to her left, 
she saw a blocky mass of bricks and Sinclair MacNeal. 
Opposing him, nestled in an office building, she saw four 
men. One, radiating confidence like heat pouring from a 
bonfire, sighted down the thick tube he had resting on the 
windowsill. 
"Clear!" he yelled. "I'm going to smoke the bastard!" 
Clutching the gun at waist level the way the Blood Crips 
had done when talking about their combats, Rajani 
yanked back on the trigger. Still selected for fully automatic 
fire, the AKM kicked out all 30 of the bullets loaded 
in the clip. Impressive muzzle flashes lit the patio as the 
hail of bullets raked their way through the unbroken panes 
in the conference room window. 
All the field stripping and dry firing she'd done with the 
Blood Crips hadn't prepared her for recoil. The AKM's 
muzzle tracked up through the sky and twisted her around 
the right, flinging her off the wall. Crashing onto her back 


on the vehicle's roof, she somersaulted over her head and 
landed hard on the ground. Her head smacked the 
sidewalk and the smoking AKM bounced off toward the 
rear of the vehicle. 
Stars burst in front of her eyes, then a secondary 
explosion ripped through her, complete with thunder and 
smoke. A red fireball shot into the air and transformed 
itself into a greasy black cloud, then chunks of debris 
started pelting her and the jeep. The windscreen cracked 
as half a cinderblock punched through it. Smaller pieces 
of concrete pinged and clinked off the vehicle, then a 
hissing sand-rain condensed out of the smoke and splashed 
gritty sheets over her. 
Rajani shook her head and rolled over onto her stomach. 
Pushing off the ground, she stood and leaned heavily 
against the jeep. Two more gunshots prompted her to 
duck, then she saw the figure of a man limping and firing 
back through the hole. She started to run toward him, then 
stopped instantly as he shifted the gun to cover her. 
"Who the hell are you?" 
"I am Rajani." She dug in her pocket and held her left 
hand out to him. "I have your cufflinks." 
"Hell of a valet service the hotel has." He snarled as he 
hopped toward the jeep and leaned on the hood. "Can you 
drive? No, wait, I saw you shoot." He hopped around to the 
driver side and slid into the driver's seat, then bashed out 
the rest of the windscreen. "Well? C'mon." 
Rajani ran to the passenger side and tossed the 
cinderblock clear of her seat. She barely settled into it 
when Sinclair, letting his left leg hang out of the driver-side 
opening, shifted into drive and stomped down on the 
accelerator. "Don't know who you are, but thank you. You 
saved my life back there." 
"I am here with Hal Garrett." Rajani braced herself as 
Sin swerved around a couple of bicycles. "We were 
worried about you when you were not at your hotel." 
Sin winced and pressed his head back onto the headrest. 
"So, you black-bagged my room and kept my 
cufflinks for a prize?" His breath hissed out through 
clenched teeth, and Rajani felt white-hot pain stab through 
the link. "How'd you find me? I left no clues to where I was 
going to be." 
Rajani could sense, through Sin's pain, that he was in 
no shape to understand any explanation she would give 
him. She also knew that he might black out at any second 
and, given the speed they were traveling, that would be 
dangerous. "This alley. Turn right and stop the car." 
"Are you nuts?" 
"I found you, and I stopped them from killing you. Trust 
me. Stop the car." 
Reluctance pulsing through the link, he did as she 


asked. "Now, stay there," she commanded. Swinging out 
of the jeep, she ran around through the twin headlight 
cones and squatted down near his bloody shin. This may 
hurt." 
"You mean it might hurt worse?" 
With the gold nail on her right index finger she sliced 
down through the fabric of his trousers, then peeled the 
cloth back. The dark, meaty wound brimmed with half-
coagulated blood. She saw flecks of white in it, and she 
thought most of them were little chips of stones. 
She started to reach around behind his leg, but Sin 
shook his head. "There's an exit wound, it's through and 
through, it feels like a lightning storm knotted up down 
there." 
Rajani looked up and made eye contact with him. She 
caught his shock as he finally saw her slitted gold pupils. 
Her eyesthey're not natural! 
As natural as yours are, Sinclair. Rajani reinforced the 
old link with him and pushed on through the stronger link. 
As she had with Hal Garrett, she sent a message to 
portions of his brain, spurring them into action to help him 
heal. She also triggered the production of endorphic 
painkillers to dull the throbbing from his leg. A wave of 
contentment passed over him, causing her to smile as she 
withdrew from his mind. 
Sin stared at her and blinked his eyes. "Lady, have you 
any idea what you did?" He blushed and shook his head. 
"Christ, you're better than morphine." 
"Is that good?" 
"In this case, that's great." Sin slid himself forward and 
out of the jeep. "C'mon, they'll be tracking this thing. We'd 
better abandon it." 
Rajani frowned. "How do you know that?" 
"I don't." Sin winked at her. "But that's what I'd be doing 
if I were running their operation. And the two of us are 
going to be damned conspicuous on the street." He 
limped over to a storm-drain grating. "You've got a suit on. 
Do you swim?" 
"They have an Olympic-sized pool at the hotel." She 
hooked a thumb through her suit's shoulder strap. "I used 
it today." 
"Well, let's go down into the hole then." He pulled the 
grate up and waved her toward the dark opening. "You 
won't get any gold for swimming down here, but chances 
are you won't get any lead, either." 

asked. "Now, stay there," she commanded. Swinging out 
of the jeep, she ran around through the twin headlight 
cones and squatted down near his bloody shin. This may 
hurt." 
"You mean it might hurt worse?" 
With the gold nail on her right index finger she sliced 
down through the fabric of his trousers, then peeled the 
cloth back. The dark, meaty wound brimmed with half-
coagulated blood. She saw flecks of white in it, and she 
thought most of them were little chips of stones. 
She started to reach around behind his leg, but Sin 
shook his head. "There's an exit wound, it's through and 
through, it feels like a lightning storm knotted up down 
there." 
Rajani looked up and made eye contact with him. She 
caught his shock as he finally saw her slitted gold pupils. 
Her eyesthey're not natural! 
As natural as yours are, Sinclair. Rajani reinforced the 
old link with him and pushed on through the stronger link. 
As she had with Hal Garrett, she sent a message to 
portions of his brain, spurring them into action to help him 
heal. She also triggered the production of endorphic 
painkillers to dull the throbbing from his leg. A wave of 
contentment passed over him, causing her to smile as she 
withdrew from his mind. 
Sin stared at her and blinked his eyes. "Lady, have you 
any idea what you did?" He blushed and shook his head. 
"Christ, you're better than morphine." 
"Is that good?" 
"In this case, that's great." Sin slid himself forward and 
out of the jeep. "C'mon, they'll be tracking this thing. We'd 
better abandon it." 
Rajani frowned. "How do you know that?" 
"I don't." Sin winked at her. "But that's what I'd be doing 
if I were running their operation. And the two of us are 
going to be damned conspicuous on the street." He 
limped over to a storm-drain grating. "You've got a suit on. 
Do you swim?" 
"They have an Olympic-sized pool at the hotel." She 
hooked a thumb through her suit's shoulder strap. "I used 
it today." 
"Well, let's go down into the hole then." He pulled the 
grate up and waved her toward the dark opening. "You 
won't get any gold for swimming down here, but chances 
are you won't get any lead, either." 
Coyote stared at the Yidam as the creature reached up 
and unfastened the gold cloak clasp at its throat. The 


heavy, dark garment fell to the floor, for the first time 
affording Coyote an unobstructed view of his opponent. 
"My God, what are you?" 
The reason for the Yidam's extraordinary height was 
the second shoulder girdle and pair of arms located a foot 
beneath the first pair. Set slightly back, the long, slender 
arms ended in long-fingered hands capped with gold 
talons, but they were not identical to the upper pair. They 
did not have its bulging musculature, nor did they possess 
the slender gold lines tracing from the talons up along the 
arms and over the shoulders. Coyote also noticed similar 
piping running from the gold claws on the creature's feet 
up its legs to the yak-hide loincloth and around to its back. 
Moving more swiftly than he could imagine anything 
that size moving, the Yidam closed. Its upper hands 
grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms out straight from 
his sides. Lower jaw agape, its lower arms came up and 
took hold of either side of his head. "You did not slay me 
when you had the chance in Storm. Now I will see if you 
are what you believe yourself to be." 
Their eyes met, and Coyote recoiled as the Yidam's 
icepick consciousness pierced his brain. Coyote felt like 
a lock with a crude pick jammed into it. He tried to fight 
him, but found himself unable to grapple with the alien 
mind. Though powerless, Coyote tried to pull away from 
the contact, but succeeded only in encysting part of his 
conscious mind. 
The Yidam used no finesse to sort through his mind 
he just pounded on in. He sorted through memories like 
a detective pulling all the clothes from a dresser drawer 
and tossing them over his shoulder. Coyote watched as 
the two months he could remember of his life were 
examined and then discarded casually. It seemed to 
Coyote that all he had done as Tycho Caine to thwart 
Fiddleback in Phoenix only heightened the Yidam's distrust. 
As the claustrophobic memory of waking up in a body 
bag enfolded Coyote, he felt the first slowing of the 
Yidam's probe. The creature hesitated as it came up 
against a wall. Coyote knew this was the drug-induced 
amnesia his predecessor had subjected him to. You even 
anticipated something like this, he thought to himself in a 
mental salute to the man who had made him into Coyote. 
You expect a biochemical barrier to stop me? The 
Yidam's contemptuous laughter echoed through Coyote's 
skull, making his brain feel like the clapper in a giant bell. 

heavy, dark garment fell to the floor, for the first time 
affording Coyote an unobstructed view of his opponent. 
"My God, what are you?" 
The reason for the Yidam's extraordinary height was 
the second shoulder girdle and pair of arms located a foot 
beneath the first pair. Set slightly back, the long, slender 
arms ended in long-fingered hands capped with gold 
talons, but they were not identical to the upper pair. They 
did not have its bulging musculature, nor did they possess 
the slender gold lines tracing from the talons up along the 
arms and over the shoulders. Coyote also noticed similar 
piping running from the gold claws on the creature's feet 
up its legs to the yak-hide loincloth and around to its back. 
Moving more swiftly than he could imagine anything 
that size moving, the Yidam closed. Its upper hands 
grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms out straight from 
his sides. Lower jaw agape, its lower arms came up and 
took hold of either side of his head. "You did not slay me 
when you had the chance in Storm. Now I will see if you 
are what you believe yourself to be." 
Their eyes met, and Coyote recoiled as the Yidam's 
icepick consciousness pierced his brain. Coyote felt like 
a lock with a crude pick jammed into it. He tried to fight 
him, but found himself unable to grapple with the alien 
mind. Though powerless, Coyote tried to pull away from 
the contact, but succeeded only in encysting part of his 
conscious mind. 
The Yidam used no finesse to sort through his mind 
he just pounded on in. He sorted through memories like 
a detective pulling all the clothes from a dresser drawer 
and tossing them over his shoulder. Coyote watched as 
the two months he could remember of his life were 
examined and then discarded casually. It seemed to 
Coyote that all he had done as Tycho Caine to thwart 
Fiddleback in Phoenix only heightened the Yidam's distrust. 
As the claustrophobic memory of waking up in a body 
bag enfolded Coyote, he felt the first slowing of the 
Yidam's probe. The creature hesitated as it came up 
against a wall. Coyote knew this was the drug-induced 
amnesia his predecessor had subjected him to. You even 
anticipated something like this, he thought to himself in a 
mental salute to the man who had made him into Coyote. 
You expect a biochemical barrier to stop me? The 
Yidam's contemptuous laughter echoed through Coyote's 
skull, making his brain feel like the clapper in a giant bell. 

Coyote suddenly saw his own mind as a complex, 
three-dimensional network of interconnected neurons 
and synapses. The blocked areas comprised an egg-
shaped area outlined in red. Each nexus point into that 


area had a small, hard, red dot glowing on it. They pulsed 
angrily like hot coals beneath the kiss of a bellows. 
Other areas of that neural net began to glow under the 
Yidam's direct influence. In turn, Coyote felt other parts of 
his body respond and flood his bloodstream with hormones 
and chemicals. As they coursed up into his brain, 
he watched the embers dull, then the first of them winked 
out. 
Coyote screamed as the Yidam burst through that first 
roadblock. Suddenly, instead of being trapped in the 
small world comprised of two memory months, Coyote 
emerged like a snake from an egg. He found himself in a 
dark world that slowly expanded as the chemicals the 
Yidam had started his body manufacturing dissolved the 
barriers. The Yidam, preceding him and drawing him 
along in his wake, gleefully threw memories at him. 
Like a spectator watching someone else, Coyote saw 
who he had been in random snippets of his life. He saw 
himself as a child studying detailed anatomical texts and 
working with cadavers. He caught glimpses of martial arts 
exercises in which human bones were substituted for the 
wooden boards others would have been instructed to 
break. He relived hours and hours spent in dim chemistry 
labs preparing poisons and explosives. 
As each nexus opened up, Coyote rebuilt his cognitive 
network. Cohesive bits of information linked up to form 
new connections both within the previously sealed area 
and out again to his more conscious memory. He did not 
feel reincorporated with what and who he had been in the 
past, and he took efforts to maintain that distance as more 
bizarre and curious events sizzled through his mind. 
He watched himself study a victim through the telescopic 
sight of a custom-built, .50-caliber sniper rifle. At 
the same moment he realized he had built the weapon 
himself and had hand-crafted the slug, he felt his right 
index finger twitch. The woman's head exploded like a 
balloon filled with red oatmeal. In the emotions that 
flickered past, he sought remorse or regret and he found 
it, but only that he'd clearly wasted three grains of powder 
in the shell that killed her. 
Coyote went cold as he realized he had to be a 
sociopathic personality. Yet the second he made that 
judgment he rejected it because of the things he had done 
since he became Coyote. A sociopath has no conscience 
and thinks only of himself. An amnesiac, while possessing 
no memory of his past, still operates within the bound 
of his normal personality. It follows that I have something 
of a conscience, a loyalty to something, that guides me 
and that I was able to transfer over to Coyote and his 
mission. 

area had a small, hard, red dot glowing on it. They pulsed 
angrily like hot coals beneath the kiss of a bellows. 
Other areas of that neural net began to glow under the 
Yidam's direct influence. In turn, Coyote felt other parts of 
his body respond and flood his bloodstream with hormones 
and chemicals. As they coursed up into his brain, 
he watched the embers dull, then the first of them winked 
out. 
Coyote screamed as the Yidam burst through that first 
roadblock. Suddenly, instead of being trapped in the 
small world comprised of two memory months, Coyote 
emerged like a snake from an egg. He found himself in a 
dark world that slowly expanded as the chemicals the 
Yidam had started his body manufacturing dissolved the 
barriers. The Yidam, preceding him and drawing him 
along in his wake, gleefully threw memories at him. 
Like a spectator watching someone else, Coyote saw 
who he had been in random snippets of his life. He saw 
himself as a child studying detailed anatomical texts and 
working with cadavers. He caught glimpses of martial arts 
exercises in which human bones were substituted for the 
wooden boards others would have been instructed to 
break. He relived hours and hours spent in dim chemistry 
labs preparing poisons and explosives. 
As each nexus opened up, Coyote rebuilt his cognitive 
network. Cohesive bits of information linked up to form 
new connections both within the previously sealed area 
and out again to his more conscious memory. He did not 
feel reincorporated with what and who he had been in the 
past, and he took efforts to maintain that distance as more 
bizarre and curious events sizzled through his mind. 
He watched himself study a victim through the telescopic 
sight of a custom-built, .50-caliber sniper rifle. At 
the same moment he realized he had built the weapon 
himself and had hand-crafted the slug, he felt his right 
index finger twitch. The woman's head exploded like a 
balloon filled with red oatmeal. In the emotions that 
flickered past, he sought remorse or regret and he found 
it, but only that he'd clearly wasted three grains of powder 
in the shell that killed her. 
Coyote went cold as he realized he had to be a 
sociopathic personality. Yet the second he made that 
judgment he rejected it because of the things he had done 
since he became Coyote. A sociopath has no conscience 
and thinks only of himself. An amnesiac, while possessing 
no memory of his past, still operates within the bound 
of his normal personality. It follows that I have something 
of a conscience, a loyalty to something, that guides me 
and that I was able to transfer over to Coyote and his 
mission. 


Coyote's lifetime. There is, Coyote, there is. I will find it, 
and then you will see what you really are. The Yidam 
increased his pace, probing memories for bare milliseconds 
before discarding them. 
As the world of Coyote's past swelled, he began to 
visualize details in the darkness. Little stars began to glow 
in the night sky, but a dim haze made it difficult to see all 
of them. Below him, the world began to take shape. Off in 
the distance he saw the great curve of China's coast 
outlined in gold. Beyond it, Korea's daggerlike peninsula 
stabbed down into the black ocean and toward the islands 
of Japan. 
Coyote began to feel vibrations from the haze. He 
realized it must have been the monks' chanting about the 
same time he saw he had centered himself above the 
lamasery. He also knew, as he looked east again, that he 
had spent most of his life in Japan. He quickly chided 
himself because he had known that fact from the file his 
predecessor had prepared on him, but now he knew it 
and, somehow, that felt far more significant. 
Then, as the Yidam cried out triumphantly, Coyote saw 
a green-ringed pulsar rising where the sun should have 
been. As its burning pupil swept around, a bolt of light 
impaled Japan. The pupil passed twice more, its pace 
increasing, then it spun up to the point where it became 
a green band encircling the sphere's oasis. 
Suddenly, a glowing green plane of light shot out and 
sliced cleanly through the haze. Coyote felt rather than 
heard faint screams, then the light hit him and collapsed 
into a single, sustained needle. It pinned him in space like 
an insect in a collection, leaving him powerless. My pet, 
my pet, you have been returned to me. A chittering hum 
filled his mind, and he felt the muscles of his face contract 
into a smile. And you brought me a prezent! 
The Yidam struggled against the energy being projected 
into Coyote like a game fish fighting a fishing line. 
He had searched for a connection to Fiddleback and 
found it, then realized too late that the Dark Lord had 
anticipated this type of foray into Coyote's mind. As the 
Yidam fought, his frustration bled into the link, and Coyote 
felt Fiddleback's delight in the Yidam's helplessness. 
Coyote realized that Fiddleback had intended the trap 
to catch another Dark Lord and that it should have 
swallowed the Yidam whole. Iz that you, Vikram?Did I not 
deztroy you when I had your wife? After all thiz time, can 
it be you? 
Living proof you do not always win. 
I am entropy, Vikram. I always win. Mozt of your 
comradez welcomed me when I pozzezzed them. Your 
wife mozt azzuredly among them. Come to me. 
The Yidam continued his fight. I am not for you, beast. 


Were you as strong as you imagine yourself, you would 
have destroyed me by now. 

Were you as strong as you imagine yourself, you would 
have destroyed me by now. 

Father? 
Rajani? 

The Yidam's return message blasted back too strong 
for Coyote to control or affect in any way. It passed back 
through the link as a ragged gold circlet. It struck the 
sphere and filled the corona with gold highlights, then that 
color drained away leaving a blue after-image in its wake. 
Another black line and another appeared in the pulsar's 
band as the cycling slowed. 
The power in the link wavered for a second, giving 
Coyote a chance to do more than act as an unwitting 
conduit. He fused his revulsion with the past the Yidam 
had shown him into an alloy with his conscious hatred of 
Fiddleback. He infused it with his fury at having his mind 
raped by the Yidam and his body being possessed by 
Fiddleback and forged it all into a scarlet axe blade. He 
chopped down into the link and felt a searing jolt of pain 
blow the top off his head. 
He found himself stumbling back within the Yidam's 
chamber. He landed on his butt, then caught the Yidam 
before he could hit the floor. Shaking his head to clear it, 
Coyote flipped the Yidam over to his back, then folded the 
cloak up into a pillow and placed it beneath the monster's 
head. 
The Yidam's red eyes opened. "Thank you," he whispered 
hoarsely. 
"That was Fiddleback. I know that much. What happened? 
Who is Vikram?" 
The Yidam brushed aside his question and tried to get 
up, but Coyote pinned him to the ground with a hand in the 
middle of his chest. "No, damn you. You rip through my 
mind without so much as a 'by your leave' and then ignore 
me. Do you think I am Fiddleback's minion?" 
The Yidam sank back and shook his head. "No. Were 
you, the link never could have been severed. You are 
powerful, which is doubtlessly why he chose you." 
"Good. Then you know that I can be a powerful weapon 
used against him. Answer my questions." 
"There is no time." 
"Give me the short form." Coyote looked up as Mong 
appeared in the Gukhong. "Are we hidden again?" 
"Four men died, and 10 are being cared for in our 
infirmary. They will not die in pain." Mong knelt by the 


Yidam. "We are reestablishing the wards and should be 
difficult to find." 
"Answers, I want them now." His fists balled, Coyote 
stood over both men. 
The Yidam reached up and grasped Mong's shoulder 
affectionately. "My wife studied religions the way I studied 
war. Through the Dalai Lama, she was introduced to 
Mong and he, in turn, instructed her in his faith. Though 
she was barred from visiting this monastery because of 
her sex, I was extended an invitation to take a retreat here. 
I happened to be here when Fiddleback managed to 
subvert the crew of the ship that had brought me here." 
Coyote nodded. "Including your wife?" 
The Yidam closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. 
"Including her. Their subversion suddenly gave him a 
beachhead on Earth, and that precipitated another Dark 
Lord making a strike at him. During the time he was 
preoccupied, I returned to the United States and made 
arrangements with Dr. Chandra for the care of my daughter." 
"You avoided possession by being here, I assume. How 
did your daughterRajani is her name, isn't itescape 
Fiddleback?" 
"I do not know for certain, but I assume Fiddleback was 
looking for a specific mental pattern. The Cythera he got 
instantly. My wife took more time, and my daughter, she 
thinks enough like a human to be difficult to spot or 
control." The Yidam smiled weakly. "Did you know you 
humans have a very disorderly mind structure?" 
"Vast fortunes are made by people who try to help us 
deal with that problem." Coyote returned the smile. 
"We have to find my daughter. She can read Fiddleback." 
"Read him?" 
"My meditations here helped me defend myself against 
Fiddleback. She is better shielded against him than I am, 
and if she is free of the stasis tube, she will be able to 
eavesdrop on his thoughts. That's why she was able to 
piggyback a message to me through the link." The 
Yidam's lower arms pushed him up into a sitting position. 
"In stasis, she was able to meditate without outside 
influences. 
"When I first came here, I was not that much different 
than you or Mong." His spare arms hugged his knees to 
his chest. "Because I meditated here, the wishes, dreams 
and beliefs of the monks over the past 25 years changed 
me into the Yidam that was meant to guard them from evil 
influences." 
Coyote shivered and stood. "That's some change." 
"It is, but as the price to elude Fiddleback and his 
influence, it is cheap." Accepting Mong's and Coyote's 
help, the Yidam pulled himself upright. "We must hurry 


and find Rajani." 
"Do you know where she is?" 
The Yidam nodded to Coyote. "In Japan and in danger." 
Coyote winced. "Japan will take two days, maybe less 
if I can get a helicopter in here." 
"No, there is another way." The Yidam looked at Mong 
and the monk nodded. "Go, Coyote, and prepare yourself. 
You have the skills you need to leave this place, and now 
I will show you the way home." 



Sin tugged the storm grate back into place in the street 
above, then gingerly lowered himself down the steel-rung 
ladder in the manhole wall. With his pistol tucked into the 
waistband of his pants at the small of his back, he grabbed 
the wet, greasy rungs with both hands. Standing only on 
his right leg, he hopped down one rung, then shifted his 
grip. Each jolting hop sent pain up through his left leg, but 
he found the pain much less intense and decreasing 
noticeably. 
He landed with a splash in the cylindrical tunnel. 
"Rajani, right?" 
The woman nodded, her gold hair reduced to a dim 
gray in the darkness. "Yes, Sinclair?" 
"Call me Sin." He squinted and looked both up and 
back along the tunnel. "I figure they'll expect us to head 
toward where these tunnels dump into the ocean. We 
need to find a crosscut tunnel that will take us deeper into 
Kimpunshima." 
She pointed off in the direction she was facing. "You 
mean like that one down there?" 
Sin saw nothing but blackness. "You can see in the 
dark, too?" 
Rajani held a hand out to him, then looped his right arm 
over her shoulder. Sin immediately felt the physical 
warmth she radiated. "The plants in here are bioluminescent 
in the ultraviolet range. Come on, I'll help you." 
"Okay." Is there anything she can't do? Not only does 
she stare me in the eyes and start my leg feeling better, but 
she popped a button in my brain that left me feeling better 
than Erika ever did. And now she can see in the dark. Sin 
glanced over at her. And didn't I think I heard her voice in 
my mind? 

He heard a chittering and immediately filled his left 
hand with the Beretta. "Did you hear that?" 
She nodded. "Rats. Let me concentrate, and I can make 
certain they will leave us alone." Sin would have made a 
comment, but his right foot slipped in the slime at the 


bottom of the cylinder. Rajani caught him and held him 
upright. "Are you okay? I can clear the pain again." 
"No, no, don't do that." Sin coughed lightly. "It does 
deaden the pain, but, ah, you shouldn't be doing that to 
folks." 
"What do you mean? I know it pleased you." 
"Yeah, well, I need a clear head here, you know." Sin 
frowned because he got the distinct impression she didn't 
know. "You're rather unique, you know that?" 
She nodded solemnly. "I believe I am the only Jes'da 
ever born on your world." 
Born on your world? Sin swallowed hard. He knew she 
looked weird, and he wondered what kind of insanity it 
took to do the body mods and tattoos she'd had done. 
Especially the eyes. Now he knew: schizophrenia. "So, 
you're not from Earth?" 
"I just said I was." She stopped. "We're at the tunnel. 
Away from the ocean, yes?" 
"Yes, away from the ocean." Sin tested his left leg, and 
the pain had subsided to a dull, tired ache. He started to 
pull his arm from her shoulder, but she shivered. "Are you 
cold?" 
"Yes, but this is something else." She faltered a half-
step, then leaned heavily on him. "He's still there." 
He homed the pistol and held her up. "Who?" 
"Fiddleback." Her head came up. "He's here." 
He heard the bubbling rush of water and felt a shiver run 
through Rajani. He turned toward the sound and faced the 
black tunnel behind him, but then the echoes shifted. He 
tried to place his body between the sound and Rajani, but 
couldn't be sure what was out there and where it was. 
"Help me, Rajani." 
She mumbled something, but he missed it as the water 
boiled around his legs. He heard it churning to a filthy froth 
and felt the warm fluid flick up on his face and neck. Then 
something tugged at his left pant leg. He felt a hunk of the 
bloody cloth tear free, and something hard rasped against 
his bare flesh. New pain started from where Rajani had 
dulled the old pain, and Sin knew something had reopened 
the bullet wound. 
"Rajani! What is it?" 
She shook her head weakly, her hair brushing against 
his neck. "Move. Go." 
"I hope it doesn't track by scent, because I'm bleeding." 

bottom of the cylinder. Rajani caught him and held him 
upright. "Are you okay? I can clear the pain again." 
"No, no, don't do that." Sin coughed lightly. "It does 
deaden the pain, but, ah, you shouldn't be doing that to 
folks." 
"What do you mean? I know it pleased you." 
"Yeah, well, I need a clear head here, you know." Sin 
frowned because he got the distinct impression she didn't 
know. "You're rather unique, you know that?" 
She nodded solemnly. "I believe I am the only Jes'da 
ever born on your world." 
Born on your world? Sin swallowed hard. He knew she 
looked weird, and he wondered what kind of insanity it 
took to do the body mods and tattoos she'd had done. 
Especially the eyes. Now he knew: schizophrenia. "So, 
you're not from Earth?" 
"I just said I was." She stopped. "We're at the tunnel. 
Away from the ocean, yes?" 
"Yes, away from the ocean." Sin tested his left leg, and 
the pain had subsided to a dull, tired ache. He started to 
pull his arm from her shoulder, but she shivered. "Are you 
cold?" 
"Yes, but this is something else." She faltered a half-
step, then leaned heavily on him. "He's still there." 
He homed the pistol and held her up. "Who?" 
"Fiddleback." Her head came up. "He's here." 
He heard the bubbling rush of water and felt a shiver run 
through Rajani. He turned toward the sound and faced the 
black tunnel behind him, but then the echoes shifted. He 
tried to place his body between the sound and Rajani, but 
couldn't be sure what was out there and where it was. 
"Help me, Rajani." 
She mumbled something, but he missed it as the water 
boiled around his legs. He heard it churning to a filthy froth 
and felt the warm fluid flick up on his face and neck. Then 
something tugged at his left pant leg. He felt a hunk of the 
bloody cloth tear free, and something hard rasped against 
his bare flesh. New pain started from where Rajani had 
dulled the old pain, and Sin knew something had reopened 
the bullet wound. 
"Rajani! What is it?" 
She shook her head weakly, her hair brushing against 
his neck. "Move. Go." 
"I hope it doesn't track by scent, because I'm bleeding." 

"Rajani? Did you just say something?" 
It comes again. She leaned heavily against him, vainly 
attempting to get him to turn around. His left hand 
grabbed the waistband of her jeans to hold her up, and he 


moved in the direction she wanted, but he could still see 
nothing. In the back of his mind, like the clicking of a 
Geiger counter approaching an atomic pile, a staticky 
sound built. 
Something in the miasmic river made the gentle 
thrupping sound of a fish striking at the surface. Sin 
recognized it as almost being normal, but it seemed louder 
than it should have. The sound also ripped through the 
tunnel like a serrated knife sawing through bone. 
Sin let Rajani steady herself against the tunnel wall, 
freeing his left hand. "C'mon, thing. You and me." He 
grinned toward where he knew Rajani stood, "It lives in a 
cesspit. How tough can it be?" 
"Very," she whispered, "It is not from here." 
"What?" 

moved in the direction she wanted, but he could still see 
nothing. In the back of his mind, like the clicking of a 
Geiger counter approaching an atomic pile, a staticky 
sound built. 
Something in the miasmic river made the gentle 
thrupping sound of a fish striking at the surface. Sin 
recognized it as almost being normal, but it seemed louder 
than it should have. The sound also ripped through the 
tunnel like a serrated knife sawing through bone. 
Sin let Rajani steady herself against the tunnel wall, 
freeing his left hand. "C'mon, thing. You and me." He 
grinned toward where he knew Rajani stood, "It lives in a 
cesspit. How tough can it be?" 
"Very," she whispered, "It is not from here." 
"What?" 

Suddenly, a segmented serpentine form reared up 
through the sludgy water. Mandibles clicked once, then 
Sin cried out as something slashed across his chest. It 
sliced through his shirt, suspenders and flesh, then withdrew. 
With it went the mental static. 
Sin hissed and pressed his left hand over the cut. 
"Proper tools to do a proper job." Sin swallowed hard. 
"Where is it, Rajani? If I can find it, I can kill it." 
She said nothing, but he felt her hand on his shoulder 
as he reached around and pulled the Beretta with his right 
hand. His vision swam for a second, then he saw himself 
drawing his gun. I'm seeing through her eyes! In an instant 
the static pounded back into his brain and he felt fetid 
water splash up and over him. 
What he saw disturbed him more than how he saw it. 
The creature had risen up and pulled back like a cobra 
preparing to strike. One of the two larger mandibles 
dripped blood. Other smaller ones ringed the creature's 
mouth and clenched reflexively as if to rip great hunks of 
flesh out of him. The composite eyes sat nestled deep in 
a spiny, chitinous skull and glowed a dull green. 
Sin saw the viewpoint in his eyes crash toward his head 
as Rajani integrated their views. He blinked, and Sin saw 
through her eyes what his eyes were seeing as the 
creature's head drove forward. As it did so, the creature's 
mouth flared open, its jaws bending it out into a hexagonal 
shape. 
He stabbed his right hand straight at it, and the creature 
engulfed his whole hand, gun and all. Sin felt the sting as 
auxiliary mandibles chomped down on his wrist, but he 
didn't pull back or fight it. The creature's eyes pulsed with 
green fire, and the spiny antennae twiddled back and forth 
as something inside the head bit down with a chank! 
Sin's finger tightened on the trigger. The bullet blew out 
the back of its head and covered the wall behind it with 


glistening bits of chitin. The hot gasses from the muzzle 
plumped the jaws and pulled the pincers from Sin's wrist 
a second before the head shot back. It smacked the wall, 
spattering it with more dark fluids, then the whole creature 
slid beneath the sluggish river of effluent. 
"Bit off more than you could chew, eh?" Rajani's sight 
faded from his eyes, so Sin didn't get a good look at the 
deep scars on either side of the pistol's slide. He turned 
back toward her, saying, "Hey, the joke wasn't that bad," 
when he saw her sag against the sewer wall. He caught her 
and held her up out of the slime. "Hang in, kid. Rajani!" 
Father? he heard resound in his head. 
She went limp, and the world went black again. 
Sin looped his left arm around her slender waist, then 
tucked his gun away. Scooping her up in his arms, he was 
surprised at how little she weighed given her ability to hold 
him up when he needed help. Even with her added weight, 
his left leg felt pretty good, and his right wrist barely pained 
him. 
The sheer insanity of his situation clamped down on 
him like the creatures jaws had on his hand. He saw 
himself as another might. There he stood, a beautiful and 
exotic woman in his arms. Knee-deep in sewage, not a 
bullet to his name, and the blood of some creature that 
could have only come from a tabloid news story running 
down the wall of a tunnel, he saw himself like the hero of 

glistening bits of chitin. The hot gasses from the muzzle 
plumped the jaws and pulled the pincers from Sin's wrist 
a second before the head shot back. It smacked the wall, 
spattering it with more dark fluids, then the whole creature 
slid beneath the sluggish river of effluent. 
"Bit off more than you could chew, eh?" Rajani's sight 
faded from his eyes, so Sin didn't get a good look at the 
deep scars on either side of the pistol's slide. He turned 
back toward her, saying, "Hey, the joke wasn't that bad," 
when he saw her sag against the sewer wall. He caught her 
and held her up out of the slime. "Hang in, kid. Rajani!" 
Father? he heard resound in his head. 
She went limp, and the world went black again. 
Sin looped his left arm around her slender waist, then 
tucked his gun away. Scooping her up in his arms, he was 
surprised at how little she weighed given her ability to hold 
him up when he needed help. Even with her added weight, 
his left leg felt pretty good, and his right wrist barely pained 
him. 
The sheer insanity of his situation clamped down on 
him like the creatures jaws had on his hand. He saw 
himself as another might. There he stood, a beautiful and 
exotic woman in his arms. Knee-deep in sewage, not a 
bullet to his name, and the blood of some creature that 
could have only come from a tabloid news story running 
down the wall of a tunnel, he saw himself like the hero of 

What was worse, to him, was that his particular mental 
image of the moment almost made sense, because it only 
took into consideration the cosmetic conditions. What 
made it more bizarre was how Rajani had healed his leg 
and spoken through his mind and let him use her eyes. 
Part of him hoped the whole adventure was a nightmare 
from which he could awaken, yet another part feared it 
was some hallucination Galbro was forcing into his brain. 
Unfortunately, he decided, those two minority opinions 
safely bracketed the truth. Coyote had invoked the name 
Fiddleback to explain curious things that had happened 
in Phoenix. Now, here, in the darkness beneath an artificial 
island, another person had used the same name. And this 
time Sin had ample proof that something very strange 
was truly happening. 
As suddenly as the creature had attacked him, Sin's 
worldview shifted. Instead of seeing everything he knew 
as full and real, it all became like building facades on a 
movie set. Where he had assumed incompetence or petty 
jealousies as explanations for things going wrong, now he 
entertained the possibility that a Fiddleback might have 
been orchestrating disaster. 
In an instant he saw that further down that path lay 
paranoia. He resisted, slowing his progress toward it, but 


he did not wholly withdraw from it. Just because you're 
paranoid doesn't mean there aren't folks out to get you. 
He smiled to himself. And I know there are folks out to get 
us, so I'd best get us out of here. 
Think, Sin, think. From a corporate security review 
he'd done three years before, he knew Kimpunshima had 
one manhole every 50 meters. He also remembered that 
at its center there was an open, festival-like area that was 
generally found packed with tourists at night. Splashing 
on into the darkness, he headed away from the ocean. 

he did not wholly withdraw from it. Just because you're 
paranoid doesn't mean there aren't folks out to get you. 
He smiled to himself. And I know there are folks out to get 
us, so I'd best get us out of here. 
Think, Sin, think. From a corporate security review 
he'd done three years before, he knew Kimpunshima had 
one manhole every 50 meters. He also remembered that 
at its center there was an open, festival-like area that was 
generally found packed with tourists at night. Splashing 
on into the darkness, he headed away from the ocean. 

Rajani's eyes came open and glowed gold. She stared 
at him for a second, then she blinked and the glow faded. 
"Sin?" 
"Easy, kid, I've got you. You're okay." He smiled at her 
even though he couldn't see her. "I don't know what that 
was, but it's gone now." 
Her voice came in a weary whisper lacking even 
enough strength to echo from the walls. "It was from 
Fiddleback...one of his pets. He sent it to finish what they 
tried to do with you earlier." 
"Will he send another?" 
Her hair brushed against his left hand as she shook her 
head. "He has been distracted." She grabbed his left 
shoulder. "Here...we have to go up here." 
"What? There shouldn't be anything here. It's not far 
enough." 
"Up here." She pointed up, and Sin saw a faint checkerboard 
pattern above them. "I have friends up there." 
"Can you stand?" 
"I think so." 
He gently lowered her legs, but kept his left arm across 
her back. She looped her arms around his neck and hung 
on until she had her legs firmly beneath her. Sin smiled 
and gave her a hug. "Good. Now for the hard part." 
"Yes?" 
"I can't see a bloody thing. Put my hands on the ladder." 
She directed his hands to the metal ladder on the tunnel 
wall. Unlike the other one, it was not constructed of metal 
rebar rungs sunk into the concrete. This one felt to Sin like 
the lower end of a fire escape that had been removed from 
its original location and placed in the sewer. It shook a bit 
as he mounted it, and, as he neared the grating above, he 
saw it was made of wood. That confirmed to him that the 
opening was not an official one. 
He pushed open the grate and slipped up into the dark 
basement. He felt so good about being out of the sewers 
that he never paused to consider what sort of place would 
want an open access point to the sewers in it. She says she 
has friends here. He pulled Rajani up out of the hole, then 


lowered the grate back into place. 
Letting her cling to his arm, he guided her up the narrow 
wooden staircase. As he got near the top, he heard 
raucous American music blaring through the door and 
found the thick smoke of cigarettes killed the sewer stink 
clinging to both of them. Good, a public place. "Almost 
home, kid." 
He pushed open the door and found himself in a dimly 
lit, cracked-tile corridor. It led past two bathrooms to the 
back of a smoke-choked bar. Sin swung his arm around 
Rajani's shoulder and threw her a wink. "Let's look casual, 
find your friends and go, okay?" 
She nodded and slipped her left arm around his waist. 
"Okay." 
From the amount of noise he heard in the corridor, Sin 
had assumed the place would be packed wall to wall with 
people. Stepping into the main room, he saw he'd equated 
the bone-cracking volume of the sound system with a 
need to compete with a crowd that didn't exist. He knew 
the folks who had been there were there recently because 
their cigarettes still burned in ashtrays and the heads on 
various beers were still going down. 
"Welcome to Caf Marie Celeste, " he murmured. 
Aside from a couple of barely visible people speaking 
in dark alcoves along the far wall, the last of the bar's patrons 
were streaming out between two lines of jeering bosozoku 
gang members. He immediately steered Rajani toward 
the door, willing to endure taunts and jibes to get out, but 
the gap closed down as they approached. 
"These are your friends?" 
Rajani shook her head. 
A smallish man with a gash on his shaved head 
dropped his Lennon glasses down to the end of his nose 
as he blocked their path. "Baka-da!" 
"What are you talking about?" Sin's eyes narrowed. 
"I've never seen you before, so how could I have done 
something stupid?" 
The rat-faced man snarled at him. "Not you, yanki! The 
mesu did." His dark-eyed gaze shifted back and forth 
between them. "Give her to me, and you won't have 
trouble." 
"Namenna-yo!" Sin balled his fists. "This isn't worth the 
pain you'll feel." The little man, with his gang fanning out 
behind him, looked more confident than Sin wanted to 
see. 
Rajani moved away from him, then looked back toward 
the bathroom. "Sin, look out!" 
Sin whirled and only caught part of the meaty punch 
coming in at his head. It clipped him hard, striking sparks 
into his vision. He felt his knees turn to water, and blood 
began to drip from his nose. He braced himself to kiss the 


floor, but he never hit it, and he couldn't figure out why. 
Then he felt the pressure on his back and saw the arm 
connected to the hand that had a massive amount of his 
shirt in its grasp. He followed the leather-swathed arm as 
it swelled on up into a body that looked big enough to be 
two sumo wrestlers grafted together. The head on it had 
flat, gray eyes and looked like it had grown up in a bucket 
mold, with the short neck it sat on being wider than the any 
part of the head. 
"Bukkoroshite yaru!" The man holding him smiled with 
a mouth full of brown, picket-fence teeth. He raised his left 
fist. "I punch you until you die!" 
The fist started down but never connected. Halfway to 
its target another arm reached over the biker's shoulder, 
and a hand closed around the fist. Muscles bunched on 
this new arm, and bones cracked in the fist. The interloping 
hand then shoved down and mashed the broken hand 
into a table top. 
With a twist of the arm, Bat spun the fat biker around 
and smashed him in the mouth with an elbow, forcing him 
to let Sin drop to the floor. Releasing the shattered fist, Bat 
grabbed the big man around the back of his bull neck and 
brought his head down to meet Bat's rising knee. The 
biker collapsed to the floor, moaning. Bat stomped down 
on his outstretched right arm, snapping its bones cleanly, 
then planted a hard kick in the man's ribs. 
Smiling demonically Bat beckoned the other bikers 
forward. "The man told you not to mess with him. Now you 
know why. C'mon, girls, I'm almost done with your friend, 
and I ain't even broke a sweat yet." 
Natch stepped from one of the alcoves with a Beretta 
automatic pointing toward the bikers. "Don't worry, you 
won't suffer...much." 
Bat took a step forward, and the bosozoku gang broke 
running. 
Sin sat up and dabbed at the blood from his nose with 
his left sleeve as they crowded out the door. "Never 
thought I'd be happy to see you, Mr. Kabat." 
"If I'd known you worked so well as bait, MacNeal, I'd 
have worn the boots with steel toes." Bat grabbed the 
unconscious biker and bashed his head into tables and 
chairs on the way to the door, then he tossed him out into 
the street. He looked out for a second, then smiled. "They 
got courage on the other side of the street." 
Rajani frowned as she helped Sin to his feet. "Do you 
think they will try to jump us?" 
"Hope so," Bat nodded grimly. 
Jesus Christ! Sin used a napkin from the bar to wipe the 
blood off his face. "At the risk of spoiling your fun, I'd just 
as soon get out of here." He looked at the little bartender 
trembling in the corner. "Denwa, arimas'ka?" 


The man brought him the phone, and Sin punched a 
number in. The man at the other end answered it after one 
ring. "Yes, Kazuo, this is Sinclair. I am with friends, and I 
need a ride. I don't know where, but someone here does. 
Thanks." Sin held the receiver out to the bartender. 
The little man took it and started speaking very fast as 
Sin turned to the others. "Kazuo will get us out of here, and 
then we have to meet with Hal and some others as quickly 
as possible." 
Natch tucked her pistol away. "Why the rush?" 
"Because, Natch, the place I just left is the place Coyote 
send me to locate." Sin tasted blood on his lips. "Between 
Rajani and me, I've learned enough to know that it's a 
breeding ground for this Fiddleback and a legion of 
loonies." 
"Fine, but why the urgency?" 
"Because one of those budding loonies is the emperor's 
grandson." He rubbed the puncture marks on his right 
wrist." From what I've been told, letting Fiddleback get his 
hands on him is roughly equivalent to looping a new 
ammo belt into a minigun. As none of ushell, none of the 
worldis on that team, I'd like to do everything I can to 
frustrate Fiddleback one more time." 

The man brought him the phone, and Sin punched a 
number in. The man at the other end answered it after one 
ring. "Yes, Kazuo, this is Sinclair. I am with friends, and I 
need a ride. I don't know where, but someone here does. 
Thanks." Sin held the receiver out to the bartender. 
The little man took it and started speaking very fast as 
Sin turned to the others. "Kazuo will get us out of here, and 
then we have to meet with Hal and some others as quickly 
as possible." 
Natch tucked her pistol away. "Why the rush?" 
"Because, Natch, the place I just left is the place Coyote 
send me to locate." Sin tasted blood on his lips. "Between 
Rajani and me, I've learned enough to know that it's a 
breeding ground for this Fiddleback and a legion of 
loonies." 
"Fine, but why the urgency?" 
"Because one of those budding loonies is the emperor's 
grandson." He rubbed the puncture marks on his right 
wrist." From what I've been told, letting Fiddleback get his 
hands on him is roughly equivalent to looping a new 
ammo belt into a minigun. As none of ushell, none of the 
worldis on that team, I'd like to do everything I can to 
frustrate Fiddleback one more time." 
Acquire, imprint, kill! Mickey stood in darkness with his 
feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent and weight forward 
on the balls of his feet. Acquire, imprint, kill! His arms 
hung down at his sides with his fingers stiffened into a 
spearhead. Acquire, imprint, kill! 
The lights slowly came up in the room, and Mickey 
found himself facing a host of misshapen, hunched 
figures. They bulged with muscles and carried clubs 
and swords in the massive hands that lurked at the end 
of improbably long arms. Oversized jaws and outthrusted 
muzzles contrasted with mismatched eyes 
and haphazardly set ears to make the pointy heads 
bottom-heavy. 

Magilla Gorilla, but bad. 
That's it exactly, Mickey. They have been bad. The 
little man's voice soothed away the concerns sparked by 
the cartoon connection Mickey had made. They were 
bad, and you must punish them. 

"They have no hats." Mickey smiled as he spoke, his 
new face and jaw making it possible for him to pronounce 
words that had previously proved impossible for him. 

Hats? 

Mickey nodded carefully. "Magilla Gorilla has a hat. 
Why don't they have hats?" 


Hats. They lost them, Mickey. This is why they were 
bad. 
"Bad. Punish." 
Precisely, Mickey. A tone sounded and the dozen 
screaming Koman charged at him in a frenzied knot. 


Mickey, ignore. 

The bestial Koman surrounded him and smashed the 
clubs down on his head and shoulders. Mickey felt the 
impacts and heard them, but remained detached. He 
knew the knife thrust to his abdomen had split skin and 
had to hurt, but he channeled the pain away, as he had 
been instructed. The loud crack of a club against his right 
kneecap numbed his whole right leg, but he pushed the 
panic away. 

Now, Mickey, you may defend yourself. Sequence 
normally. Start with Claw! Go! 
Acquire. Mickey turned his head and scanned the 
group. He assessed them in terms of threat potential 
based on their weapons, size, skill, disposition, apparent 
intelligence, range and state of health. As one part of his 
brain sorted through the candidates and assigned them 
threat-assessment levels, another part searched through 
known-enemy templates and searched for the one that fit 
the Koman. Having fought them before, he came up with 
the original template he had memorized and visualized it 
as modified by supplementary data. 
The Koman with a bloodied knife to his right won the 
designation as primary target. Mickey merged his image 
with the template. Red dots covered the Koman at 
forehead, throat and the center of its chest, showing areas 
of vulnerability. Imprint. Mickey's right hand contracted, 
fingers hooking halfway in, palm pulling perpendicular to 
the forearm. 

Kill. 

Mickey's hand struck with blinding speed. His fingers 
penetrated the Koman's flesh before the creature had a 
chance to realize Mickey had even begun to move. 
Leaning in toward the Koman, Mickey pushed his hand 
through the beast's sternum, snapping off the ends of a 
half-dozen ribs. As the bone fragments shredded the 
Koman's lungs and started them hissing, Mickey mashed 
its heart against its spine. His hand contracted as he 
encountered bone, and his arm retracted, taking four 
vertebrae with it. 
The first Koman collapsed with the upper half of his 
torso folding backward and blood spraying out of the hole 
in his chest. Mickey turned back away from him, stiffening 
his left hand into a spearhead. Acquire. Moving to the left, 
he spotted a Koman with a rapier. His mental template 
fused with the Koman. Imprint. 
Kill! 


With the skill of a championship fencer, Mickey arched 
his back to avoid a thrust, then stabbed his left hand at the 
Koman's eyes. His fingers pushed past them, shattering 
the bones behind the orbits. If the bone shards being 
driven through the Koman's brain had not been enough to 
kill him, Mickey's spearhand thrust going all the way to 
touch the back of the skull would have accomplished the 
job easily. 
Mickey pulled his hand free with a sucking thwok, then 
spun. He acquired a target as he pivoted on his left leg and 
knotted his right hand into a hammerfist. He imprinted his 
target as it missed an overhead stroke with a baseball bat. 
He brought his right hand through and killed the Koman 
by blasting its left ear beyond the midline of its skull and 
driving its body into another Koman. 
Acquire, imprint, kill. Mickey worked his way through 
the axe and awl shapes, then moved to the more complex 
double-strike forms that required both hands, like hammer 
and anvil, nut and bolt and turnabout. Two elbow 
strikes, a kick and a ram's-head strike finished the rest of 
the Koman, then Mickey resumed his original stance. 
The blood dripping from his hands ran down his legs to 
the growing puddle at his feet. 
The small man came out of the darkness surrounding 
the combat arena and wore a pleased smile on his face. 
He snapped his fingers, and a large green orb on a leathery 
green stalk dropped down and hovered five feet above the 
ground. The scaled flesh surrounding it peeled back, and 
a translucent membrane slid diagonally away. It revealed 
a star-pupiled eyeball with a red circle iris. The eye 
tracked right, then down and left, then down and right, 
repeating the process until it had scanned him from head 
to toe. 
The little man nodded appreciatively. "You did an 
excellent job, Mickey. Your forms were all correct. You 
have studied well." He squatted down and watched the 
bruising on Mickey's knee disappear. "Your recovery rate 
is fantastic. You are perfect." 
Mickey smiled broadly. "Now I go home? Now I see 
Dorothy?" 
The little man rested his right elbow in this left hand and 
tapped his teeth with a finger. "Soon, Mickey, very soon. 
There are only a couple more things you have to do, then 
I shall return you home." He smiled, and Mickey's disappointment 
vanished. "And, believe me, everyone will 
remember your homecoming for a long, long time." 

With the skill of a championship fencer, Mickey arched 
his back to avoid a thrust, then stabbed his left hand at the 
Koman's eyes. His fingers pushed past them, shattering 
the bones behind the orbits. If the bone shards being 
driven through the Koman's brain had not been enough to 
kill him, Mickey's spearhand thrust going all the way to 
touch the back of the skull would have accomplished the 
job easily. 
Mickey pulled his hand free with a sucking thwok, then 
spun. He acquired a target as he pivoted on his left leg and 
knotted his right hand into a hammerfist. He imprinted his 
target as it missed an overhead stroke with a baseball bat. 
He brought his right hand through and killed the Koman 
by blasting its left ear beyond the midline of its skull and 
driving its body into another Koman. 
Acquire, imprint, kill. Mickey worked his way through 
the axe and awl shapes, then moved to the more complex 
double-strike forms that required both hands, like hammer 
and anvil, nut and bolt and turnabout. Two elbow 
strikes, a kick and a ram's-head strike finished the rest of 
the Koman, then Mickey resumed his original stance. 
The blood dripping from his hands ran down his legs to 
the growing puddle at his feet. 
The small man came out of the darkness surrounding 
the combat arena and wore a pleased smile on his face. 
He snapped his fingers, and a large green orb on a leathery 
green stalk dropped down and hovered five feet above the 
ground. The scaled flesh surrounding it peeled back, and 
a translucent membrane slid diagonally away. It revealed 
a star-pupiled eyeball with a red circle iris. The eye 
tracked right, then down and left, then down and right, 
repeating the process until it had scanned him from head 
to toe. 
The little man nodded appreciatively. "You did an 
excellent job, Mickey. Your forms were all correct. You 
have studied well." He squatted down and watched the 
bruising on Mickey's knee disappear. "Your recovery rate 
is fantastic. You are perfect." 
Mickey smiled broadly. "Now I go home? Now I see 
Dorothy?" 
The little man rested his right elbow in this left hand and 
tapped his teeth with a finger. "Soon, Mickey, very soon. 
There are only a couple more things you have to do, then 
I shall return you home." He smiled, and Mickey's disappointment 
vanished. "And, believe me, everyone will 
remember your homecoming for a long, long time." 
The maelstrom of emotions swirling through the room 


made Rajani feel dizzy. "Please, stop it, all of you." 
Sin and Colonel Nagashita both looked up from the 
map over which they had been arguing. Behind them, 
Kazuo and Bat both looked surprised at her outburst. Only 
Hal, standing near the street map with a Silva rolling map 
scaler, appeared to understand what had made her angry. 
Natch looked up from cleaning her pistol, and Jytte 
remained at the computer terminal in the corner of the 
room. 
Sin frowned and wiped his sweaty brow with his 
shirtsleeve. "What's the matter, Rajani?" 
She got a feeling of genuine concern and care from him, 
which made it easier for her to speak. "You are all working 
at cross purposes." She pointed at Nagashita. "You resent 
Sin's planning because you believe this is a problem your 
command should have been given to handle from the 
start. You also don't like Mr. Takagi and his people being 
brought in on this. You are purposefully ignoring the 
gravity of the situation." 
Sin nodded, then froze as she glared at him. "And you, 
Sin, you are just as guilty. You are angry because of 
having been shot. You also resent Colonel Nagashita 
because you think he's trying to take over this operation. 
You are ignoring the fact that he and his people have had 
vast amounts of training in this sort of thing, especially 
after the incident in the Olympics two years ago. You are 
pushing the use of the Yakuza as a diversionary force for 
the most part because it will work, but a little because their 
presence needles Colonel Nagashita." 
Rajani let her own anxiety filter into her words. "You, Mr. 
Takagi, want to help because of your sense of duty to the 
imperial family. You are also thinking that this could give 
your people an entr into Kimpunshima and perhaps 
even a chance to destroy the bosozoku group that has 
been annoying your uncle." 
She just looked at Bat and shivered. 
Sin looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. 
"You're right, Rajani." His head came up again as he 
looked at the IDC leader. "Colonel, let's table our problems 
until we have Ryuhito out and safe." 
"Hai." The small, sharp-eyed man nodded curtly and 
unfolded his arms. Kazuo Takagi nodded in agreement, 
and Hal smiled. Only Bat remained untouched by her 
appeal. 
Then, if this meets with your approval, this is what I 
propose." Sin pointed on the map of the Galactic Brotherhood 
Institute at the patio from which he had left the 
grounds. "We have a wall breach here, which they're 
going to have to devote a lot of attention to. Kazuo, your 
people need to arrive here and put on a big show of force. 
Be aware they're armed with some heavy weapons, 


including rocket-propelled grenades, LAW rockets and 
even some SAWs. I don't know where they got them, but 
I've not got a hard time imagining a network of true 
believers within all sorts of corporations around the world. 
Be careful, and, if/when the shooting starts, you head in 
here." 
Kazuo nodded. "Wakarimas. Colonel, is that acceptable 
to you?" 
Nagashita nodded. "Having you attract their attention 
is good. Your people, when they come in, will wear blue 
armbands so my people will not shoot them, yes?" 
"Hai." 
"Good." Sin shifted to the front of the GBI building. "This 
is the weakest spot in the GBI defenses. The public lobby 
has lots of glass, and the auditorium is clear, so even if an 
alarm is sounded and help arrives, the defenders won't 
have any place to hide. Aside from the book kiosks, there 
is no cover. We will get in quietly. 
"Now this door here," he said as he tapped the map, 
"leads straight into their secure area. This is their spine, 
and it gives us instant access to the rest of the complex. 
I can get us through the door, then we have teams locate 
Ryuhito, secure him and get him out." 
Colonel Nagashita's eyes nearly closed as he frowned. 
"I do not like the fact that our strike into the complex is 
predicated on your being able to breach this secure door. 
You said it has a Tojicorp Hogosha security door and 
palmprint reader. I think it we will have to blow it." 
Sin shook his head. "Rajani, toss me that room service 
menu, please." 
She took the laminated menu from the table and 
brought it over to him. Sin flipped it open to the room 
service section and smiled. "Kobe's finest. We're in, trust 
me." 
Jytte hit a key on her console. "By retrotracing through 
the Lorica system, I have penetrated the GBI computer 
system at the most basic levels. They are in the midst of 
notifying the people who were scheduled to show up for 
a meeting tonight that it has been postponed." 
"Good." Sin looked over at Colonel Nagashita. "This 
plan will work, trust me." 
"I am afraid any trust I might have had for you vanished 
three years ago, Mr. MacNeal." Nagashita pulled himself 
up to his full height and gave Sin a stare harsh enough for 
Rajani to feel it. "However, I serve one who trusts you. Your 
plan has merit, and we will employ it." 
"We're cooking with microwaves now. Jytte, can you 
access any higher computer functions from here?" 
She shook her head in response, giving off waves of 
frustration. This level allows for some administrative 
functions, presumably so field representatives can make 


appointments and add people to schedules from remote 
locations. I have tried to gain upper-level access, but they 
may have a cut-out system in place to prevent tampering." 
Rajani frowned. "Cut-out?" 
Jytte gave Rajani a quick, mechanical smile. "Data 
transfers from this basic system to the higher-level system 
may require an operator to physically move a storage 
medium, like a WORM disk from one network to another. 
For orders going down from higher to lower, the higher 
system can always call the lower on the same sort of 
access line as we are using." 
The blond woman closed her eyes and concentrated 
hard enough that Rajani caught no impressions or emotions 
from her at all. Jytte's fingers drifted to the keypad, 
then began hitting keys in short, sharp bursts. Her whole 
body stiffened for five seconds, and no one in the room so 
much as breathed. Then she typed another, longer sequence 
into the machine and sat back. 
The key to WORM disks is that they hold far more 
information than even the most busy system could ever 
handle. WORM means 'write once, read many' and this 
disk in the drive currently has been in use for the past 
month. To make their system ultrasecure, they should 
destroy the disk after each transfer, but financial analysts 
do not see that as economical. I will read all the data and 
see if there is a mention of upper-level access." 
"Good hunting." Sin looked over at Hal. "You and Jytte 
will be our logistics coordinators. You'll come in with the 
second waves of Colonel Nagashita's men and take up a 
position in the GBI executive offices. You'll have the job of 
keeping us all pointed in the right direction. You'll also be 
the one to get Ryuhito out when we find him." 
Hal nodded, and Rajani sensed in him welcome relief at 
not being asked to actively engage in the assault. This did 
not surprise her, given his recent brush with death and the 
loss of his wife, but Rajani knew his abhorrence of violence 
ran deeper than that. Hal clearly believed violence was 
one of the root causes of the world's problems and, while 
he might have acknowledged that some people fervently 
needed killing, the collateral damage done by violence 
was far too high a price to be paid easily. 
Sin glanced at Bat, got a stony stare in return, then 
looked at Nagashita again. "You can have your people in 
place and pick us up here in an hour and a half?" 

appointments and add people to schedules from remote 
locations. I have tried to gain upper-level access, but they 
may have a cut-out system in place to prevent tampering." 
Rajani frowned. "Cut-out?" 
Jytte gave Rajani a quick, mechanical smile. "Data 
transfers from this basic system to the higher-level system 
may require an operator to physically move a storage 
medium, like a WORM disk from one network to another. 
For orders going down from higher to lower, the higher 
system can always call the lower on the same sort of 
access line as we are using." 
The blond woman closed her eyes and concentrated 
hard enough that Rajani caught no impressions or emotions 
from her at all. Jytte's fingers drifted to the keypad, 
then began hitting keys in short, sharp bursts. Her whole 
body stiffened for five seconds, and no one in the room so 
much as breathed. Then she typed another, longer sequence 
into the machine and sat back. 
The key to WORM disks is that they hold far more 
information than even the most busy system could ever 
handle. WORM means 'write once, read many' and this 
disk in the drive currently has been in use for the past 
month. To make their system ultrasecure, they should 
destroy the disk after each transfer, but financial analysts 
do not see that as economical. I will read all the data and 
see if there is a mention of upper-level access." 
"Good hunting." Sin looked over at Hal. "You and Jytte 
will be our logistics coordinators. You'll come in with the 
second waves of Colonel Nagashita's men and take up a 
position in the GBI executive offices. You'll have the job of 
keeping us all pointed in the right direction. You'll also be 
the one to get Ryuhito out when we find him." 
Hal nodded, and Rajani sensed in him welcome relief at 
not being asked to actively engage in the assault. This did 
not surprise her, given his recent brush with death and the 
loss of his wife, but Rajani knew his abhorrence of violence 
ran deeper than that. Hal clearly believed violence was 
one of the root causes of the world's problems and, while 
he might have acknowledged that some people fervently 
needed killing, the collateral damage done by violence 
was far too high a price to be paid easily. 
Sin glanced at Bat, got a stony stare in return, then 
looked at Nagashita again. "You can have your people in 
place and pick us up here in an hour and a half?" 

"Is that workable for you, Kazuo?" 

"Hai." 

Rajani turned away and slid the door open onto the 
hotel balcony as Sin escorted the two Japanese men to his 
elevator. She stepped out into the night and shivered, but 


shut the door behind her instead of returning for a coat. 
The new pair of jeans and thin, white cotton blouse with 
short sleeves did nothing to stop the humid air from 
chilling her, but she didn't care. It felt right to her to feel 
cold. 
She tried to sort through everything she had experienced 
and learned over the last four hours. The shock of 
having sensed her father nearly overpowered everything. 
She had always hoped he had survived the years, but 
when she was put into stasis she had been told that the 
chances of that were slim at best. Her father had impressed 
upon her the absolute necessity of what she was 
doing and told her how proud he was of her for accepting 
that burden. 
Leaning against the balcony railing, feeling the cold 
steel against her belly, she stared out at the imperial 
palace and the forested oasis surrounding it. Her father, in 
that brief contact, reminded her much of that building. He 
seemed as remote as ever, but also changed. He was not 
the same as a medieval palace in a modern world, but he 
struck her as more guarded and primal. He had changed 
as much as she had. 
She also realized she was continuing to change, but not 
in the focused manner in which she had during stasis or 
before. Dr. Chandra and his aides, even the loathsome 
Nicholas, had been strong personalities, but they faded to 
insignificance in comparison to Natch and Bat and Sin. 
Moreover, her entire life had been one of learning and 
experimenting instead of actually living. She realized that, 
as nice as Dr. Chandra and his people had been to her, as 
much as they accommodated her, she was really just a 
large lab rat to them. 
As much as it had embarrassed her to have the AKM's 
recoil knock her off the wall, she had reveled in it. Dr. 
Chandra and his people had taught her about the concept 
of equal and opposite reactions, but that was a practical 
demonstration of the principle. That was a lesson she 
would never forget, but it was delivered in a manner that 
no one would have ever allowed in the old days. 
More importantly to her, though, she had actually done 
something. Deep down she knew that making the trip 
from Area 51 to Flagstaff with Dorothy and Mickey was an 
accomplishment in and of itself, but there she had help 
because the kids knew where their home was. In going out 
to rescue Sin, she had operated on her own. She knew that 
her action had been impulsive and even foolish, but she 
had no choice, and her inaction would have meant that Sin 
died. 
She found that was the last thing she wanted. 
As much as she liked the surprise Bat had shown when 
Sin explained about how her shooting had caused the 


man with the antitank missile to shift his aimpoint to the 
wall, the gratitude coming from Sin made her feel even 
better. She liked his laughter and even didn't mind when 
he joked that he would have had her drive the getaway 
jeep, but he feared her marksmanship with a car would 
have been even worse than that with a gun. 
The people she had known in the lab were much like 
Bat in that they had a single focus that dominated their 
lives. Sinclair MacNeal struck her as a personality with 
multiple facets. His mind always raced on, looking for a 
use for something or an angle on it or a relationship of it 
to something else he knew about. He also cared about 
people, not just as resources, but as people. When he 
tipped the concierge for bringing her a new set of clothing 
from the hotel store, he did it with genuine thanks in mind 
instead of a desire to impress the other people in the room. 
"Hey, kid, you going to be up to this tonight?" 
She spun around and brushed strands of gold hair back 
from her face. "Sin! I didn't hear you." 
He nodded. "You seemed pretty far away." He held out 
a blue windbreaker. "I thought you might need this. 
Thinking about your father?" 
Rajani nodded, then turned back toward the palace. 
"Him, and a lot of things. And, to answer your question, 
yes, I'm up to going into GBI. Why do you ask?" 
"You're going to be our early-warning system." Sin 
joined her at the railing and leaned on it with his elbows. 
"If Fiddleback was able to summon up that devil-worm 
just to nail us, imagine what he'll do to hang on to Ryuhito. 
We'll need to know what and where to react to it." 
He turned toward her, and she read the concern from 
his face even before she felt it. "I know you can find the 
fighting tough to takeproving once again you're an 
intelligent person." 
Rajani shook her head. "Not the violence, but the 
emotions it engenders. There are some emotions no one 
should ever have." 
"Yeah, I imagine being around Bat in the bosozoku fight 
was like being forced to read that old piece of trash, 
American Psycho. I'm having a hard time here because I'll 
be keeping an eye out for El-Leichter, Nagashita and Bat 
to see which one shoots me first." 
"Sin, you don't have to worry about Bat." 
Sin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? He hates me as much as 
most of Tokyo hates this heat wave." 
"That may be so, but he also respects you." Rajani half-
smiled, "It started when you told him about how you got 
away from Mr. Handy, then it stayed alive when you talked 
about the devil-worm. What guaranteed it was how you 
formulated a plan and were able to work around the 
objections advanced by Hal, Kazuo and Nagashita. I think 


Bat finds you borderline dangerous now, which is quite an 
accomplishment." 
"Forgive me if that doesn't make me sleep any easier 
tonightif I sleep at all." He smiled at her. "So, can your 
psychic powers let you see into the future?" 
"No, but they could let me see into you." She shrugged. 
"I don't think I need to, though, because I watched you in 
there. You know your plan is good, and you've done 
everything you can to make sure it works. Fiddleback is 
your only random element, and you even have him 
partially covered. It will be dangerous, but it is also 
necessary." 
"The only way we can guarantee failure tonight is to not 
do anything." Sin turned around and leaned his back into 
the railing. "Everything else is a toss of the cosmic dice." 
She nodded and hugged the windbreaker tight around 
her body. "If only we knew the odds." 
He winked at her. "Naw, if we knew the odds, we'd be 
smart enough not to go." He looped his left arm around her 
shoulders and steered her back toward the suite. "Come 
on back inside, Rajani. I have to call room service and I can 
add some hot tea to take care of that shiver, it's warm 
inside." 
"No, Sin, I think I'll stay out here for a bit." 
"Rajani, stay out here and you'll catch your death." He 
gave her a brief hug. "And that is not something I want to 
happen." 

Bat finds you borderline dangerous now, which is quite an 
accomplishment." 
"Forgive me if that doesn't make me sleep any easier 
tonightif I sleep at all." He smiled at her. "So, can your 
psychic powers let you see into the future?" 
"No, but they could let me see into you." She shrugged. 
"I don't think I need to, though, because I watched you in 
there. You know your plan is good, and you've done 
everything you can to make sure it works. Fiddleback is 
your only random element, and you even have him 
partially covered. It will be dangerous, but it is also 
necessary." 
"The only way we can guarantee failure tonight is to not 
do anything." Sin turned around and leaned his back into 
the railing. "Everything else is a toss of the cosmic dice." 
She nodded and hugged the windbreaker tight around 
her body. "If only we knew the odds." 
He winked at her. "Naw, if we knew the odds, we'd be 
smart enough not to go." He looped his left arm around her 
shoulders and steered her back toward the suite. "Come 
on back inside, Rajani. I have to call room service and I can 
add some hot tea to take care of that shiver, it's warm 
inside." 
"No, Sin, I think I'll stay out here for a bit." 
"Rajani, stay out here and you'll catch your death." He 
gave her a brief hug. "And that is not something I want to 
happen." 
An unseasonably cold wind cut at Coyote as he met 
Mong and the Yidam at the heart of a crowd of monks. He 
was glad he'd chosen to wear a black turtleneck sweater 
over his Kevlar vest instead of the T-shirt he'd used during 
training. His Wildey Wolf rode in the Bianchi shoulder 
holster, and the two Colt Kraits occupied positions on his 
hips. 
in addition to the small arms, he carried a short carbine 
that, at first glance, looked almost identical to the carbine 
version of the M16 automatic rifle. What differentiated the 
Armalite AR-12 Stormcloud from the generation of weapons 
that spawned it was the boxier magazine and larger 
bore. The combat shotgun fed shells in from a 12-round 
box, and Coyote had specifically loaded his with sets of 
three buckshot shells and one Dragonfire incendiary 
round. He had three clips and, while he had picked the 
weapon up out of professional curiosity after a conversation 
with Crowley, the lark struck him as being a fortunate 
bit of luck. 
His black combat fatigue pants and combat boots, 


along with the turtleneck, almost looked like street clothes. 
He assumed he might have to pass for normal when he 
reached Japan, which is why he also had a nylon satchel 
folded into a tight little package and stuffed in his back 
pocket. The guns and spare clips could go into it when 
they arrived. 
The Yidam, Coyote realized, would present a problem 
even in the weirder districts of Japan. Four Vietnam-
vintage flak jackets had been cut apart and sewn together 
to provide the four-armed alien with body protection. He 
wore yak-skin boots that had been specially crafted to fit 
his clawed feet, and the talons poked through the ends of 
them like decorations. His arms, legs and head remained 
bare, but their dark color would help conceal him. 
Concealing the long rifle the Yidam carried on his upper 
right armas if he were a country squire ready for a day 
of quail huntingwould be something else entirely. I 
could break that down with a hacksaw, and I'd still not 
be able to conceal it. Taller than Coyote by a clean foot, it 
had a bore he could have plugged with his thumb. From 
the shells distributed in the bandolier slung across the 
Yidam's torso, Coyote knew the weapon wasn't a shotgun, 
despite the large barrel diameter. 
"Loaded for bear, aren't we?" 
The Yidam smiled, and Mong patted the gun the alien 
carried affectionately. "This is an old surplus weapon we 
thought to use against tanks if they ever worked through 
our shielding." 
Coyote took another look at the weapon, then nodded. 
" 14.5mm Protivotankovoe Ruzh'yo obr 1941 g PTRS. The 
Soviets manufactured those to stop German tanks. Shoots 
a 14.5mm tungsten-cored, armor-piercing incendiary 
round that it gets from a five-round clip. Semiautomatic 
fire, hellish recoil." He pointed to a polished wooden grip 
halfway up the barrel. "You're supposed to have a bipod 
there, but I guess you don't need it." 
The Yidam shook his head. "No, I don't." 
Coyote chuckled lightly, then frowned. "The 14.5mm 
round was good in its day, but any armor we're likely to 
run into has benefited from 60 years of technological 
development." 
"I am not concerned about armor, just whatever sort of 
creature your former master can dredge up." 
"Besides," added Mong, "these shells are new. They 
have even been modified to work better." When Coyote 
gave him a quizzical look, he offered one word. "Teflon." 
That moment of levity faded as Coyote looked along 
the torchlit causeway leading to the east gate. He could 
see people in all of the alcoves as usual, but fluid stains 
rendered in black by the torchlight caught his attention. 
Mong said he'd lost people and would lose more. Staring 


at the silent evidence of the evil Fiddleback could do with 
a stray thought, Coyote set himself. 
"Mong, thank you for what you have given me in the 
way of wisdom and training." 
"Kyi-can, we who know of the Dark Ones have a 
responsibility to fulfill. You repay me by fighting for the 
future." 
Coyote reached out and squeezed the monk's shoulder. 
"My predecessor asked those he helped to 'pay 
forward,' not back. We will pay forward, with interest." 
The Yidam brandished his tank-killing rifle, "It is time to 
return to the Dark Ones that which they have sown." 
Mong nodded. "Our prayers are with you." 
The Yidam led Coyote off along the causeway. "When 
I probed your mind, I saw that Crowley had shown you one 
of the transportational devices available for travel between 
the dimensions. We will walk to a place where one 
of these is located and move from there, because the 
3500-mile hike to Japan would still take a while, even with 
shortcuts through other dimensions. This particular site is 
little used because it is located in a pastoral dimension 
with little or no value to the Dark Lords." 
"I trust your judgment." 
The two of them came to the massive stone gate and 
stopped before it. Coyote closed his eyes for a moment 
and exhaled a deep breath to the count of five. He forced 
his heart to slow and he cleared his mind. Around him, he 
heard the pitch and tenor of the chanting shift, then felt an 
unseen pressure on his back. 
He stepped forward and reached out with his mind. He 
sensed the Yidam's passage and slipped in behind him to 
speed his transit to their target destination. Things went 
smoothly for a dozen steps, then the ground seemed to 
lurch upward, driving his knees toward his chest. Coyote 
found himself racing forward with the exaggerated steps 
of someone running on a trampoline, then the terrain 
stiffened beneath his feet and he fell to the ground. 
He felt grasses and opened his eyes to a bizarre 
nightscape. He felt hands on his shoulders lifting him up 
and thought it was the Yidam, but he came into view off 
to Coyote's right. Coyote turned his head and saw Crowley's 
silhouette, then nodded to his friend and was released. 
"What are you doing here?" he whispered. 
Crowley crouched between him and the Yidam. "I 
assumed, after the display an hour ago, that you would be 
coming out." 
"Display?" Coyote likewise crouched and let the long 
summer grasses in the meadow hide him. 
"The net Fiddleback used to locate you shocked me out 
of one of the more pleasant social situations I've been in 
recently. There I was, reading Janine Fonda's palm and 


suddenly I'm hit with a piece of Fiddleback's brainblast. I 
started babbling uncontrollably for the time it took for him 
to shred Kanggenpo's defenses, then I stopped when he 
focused on you." Crowley laughed wryly, the sound 
seeming odd coming from a shadow. "Turned out for the 
best, though, because Ms. Fonda recognized the drivel I 
started spouting about Grays and how they've taken over 
the planet. Speaking of which, who is Gunga Din and what 
is that peashooter he's carrying?" 
"Meet Kanggenpo's Yidam. He's on our side." 
The Yidam offered Crowley his lower right hand, and 
the man took it. "I am the Yidam. I also used to crew with 
the so-called Grays." 
"Lovely." Crowley shook his head. "Janine asked if I 
was a disciple of Arrigo El-Leichter, too, and mentioned 
she'd gone to some seminars he gave at the Galactic 
Brotherhood Institute in Kimpunshima. I did a quick 
check and realized that Arrigo must be another of Fiddleback's 
pets, and he runs a training facility. It also seems 
he has a working dimensional transport device in his 
facility there. Assuming you'd come out here, I arrived 
ahead of you, and that's when I found that." 
Coyote looked off toward the south. Cutting across the 
meadow, he saw an S-shaped track of golden light that 
reminded him of a timed-exposure picture of car taillights 
at night. It stood almost twice the Yidam's considerable 
height, and he thought he could see humanoid silhouettes 
moving within it. Most moved through in the ground, 
heading from west to east, but a few moved in the opposite 
direction in the upper area. He had no way of telling how 
wide it was, but it extended from the middle of one hillside 
to halfway up the next and apparently ended in the same 
place it began: nowhere. 
"What is it?" 
Crowley shrugged. "I don't really know. Could be a 
tunnel through dimensions, I suppose. I've never seen its 
like before." 
The Yidam stared at it, then folded his lower arms. "I've 
not seen such a thing either, but I have heard tales. I think 
this may be a conduit between dimensions. I suspect 
having it track through here is to let it avoid detection. 
Chances are excellent, Coyote, that the turbulence we felt 
as we walked here was our cutting across its path." 
Coyote frowned. "Is it Fiddleback's?" 
"No. Too elegant." Crowley shook his head. "Another 
Dark Lord's work, I'd guess. Maybe the Empress of 
Diamonds or Midas Longclaws." 
"We don't have time for this. Where is the dimensional 
transporter?" 
Crowley flattened some grass back behind himself, and 
Coyote saw a low ring of stone. "You're in the middle of it. 


That stream over there powers it. Rearrange the stones in 
the pool in the right way, and it works." The occultist 
stepped over the stone ring and in the direction of the 
stream Coyote heard gurgling in the darkness. "I've got it 
targeted for a clear area about 20 meters south of ElLeichter's 
device." 
"Are you coming with us?" 
Crowley nodded toward the lightwall. "I think I'd best 
check that out. I'll report back as fast as I can. Good luck." 
Coyote threw Crowley a wave, then charged the 
Stormcloud and took it off safe. The Yidam likewise 
worked a shell into the PTRS's breech, then held it ready. 
"We check. Go, Damon." 
Coyote heard the swish of water, then the world lurched 
sideways. The night sky and lightwall vanished into a cool, 
black ocean. But before he or the Yidam could get used 
to that, thunder cracked the darkness, and they reappeared 
in a world of fire. 

That stream over there powers it. Rearrange the stones in 
the pool in the right way, and it works." The occultist 
stepped over the stone ring and in the direction of the 
stream Coyote heard gurgling in the darkness. "I've got it 
targeted for a clear area about 20 meters south of ElLeichter's 
device." 
"Are you coming with us?" 
Crowley nodded toward the lightwall. "I think I'd best 
check that out. I'll report back as fast as I can. Good luck." 
Coyote threw Crowley a wave, then charged the 
Stormcloud and took it off safe. The Yidam likewise 
worked a shell into the PTRS's breech, then held it ready. 
"We check. Go, Damon." 
Coyote heard the swish of water, then the world lurched 
sideways. The night sky and lightwall vanished into a cool, 
black ocean. But before he or the Yidam could get used 
to that, thunder cracked the darkness, and they reappeared 
in a world of fire. 
Sin reached over and opened the Japan Gray Line tour 
bus' front and back doors. "This is the Galactic Brotherhood 
Institute. Everybody out!" 
Hal and Jytte led a coterie of Japanese men and 
women wearing oversized, garish Hawaiian shirts and 
dresses from the bus. They milled around, chattering 
away pleasantly, each carrying a tour bag and with 
cameras looped around their necks like talismans to ward 
off evil. Nagashita alighted last and tugged his gray blazer 
into place. Shouting at the tourists to line up, he marched 
to the front door, and they followed in lockstep. 
The two GBI employees on duty looked at each other, 
then both came to the doorway. Sin recognized neither 
the man or woman from his first visit or from the classes 
he had subsequently taken. They paused at the door and 
shouted muffled questions at Nagashita. The colonel, in 
turn, just bowed politely, smiled and pointed at the lock 
before bowing again. 
The man opened the glass door. "I am afraid we are not 
expecting you." 
"So sorry," said Nagashita. He reached inside his coat 
and came out with a silenced Beretta automatic. His hand 
bucked twice, and both GBI employees died with a bullet 
through the brain. Nagashita yanked the door wide open 
and waved his people through. 
The callousness with which Nagashita had killed the 
two GBI peons irked Sin. He had agreed that the Internal 
Defense Cadre would secure the lobby, but he'd somehow 
imagined Nagashita would take any employees prisoner. 


Then again, he reminded himself, he's treating this like a 
hostage rescue in which he's freeing the emperor's grandson. 
There's bound to be retribution in the mix. 

Then again, he reminded himself, he's treating this like a 
hostage rescue in which he's freeing the emperor's grandson. 
There's bound to be retribution in the mix. 


They reported it clear, and Sin followed them. As they 
moved up the hallway, Sin looked into the offices they 
cleared, then waved Jytte and Hal into the second one on 
the right. 
He pointed at a computer console and the bank of 
mainframes behind it. "Jytte, can you take security down 
from here?" 
The computer empath concentrated for a moment, 
then nodded. "I think so. I found some codes for the Taos 
center they just opened. I should be able to use them and 
get in." 
"Good. Go to it" Sin helped Hal unfold the blueprint of 
the place and pointed out their current location. "We'll 
keep reporting where we are. Coordinate us with the 
Yakuza, if we have to bring the Dogs in." Hal gave him a 
sidelong glance, and Sin amended his statement. "Bat's 
with them, so when they come in, direct them to areas 
where we won't come up against each other." 
"I'm supposed to be here, right?" 
Sin turned as Rajani entered the room and killed a 
laugh. Swathed in Kevlar, she looked like the child of an 
overprotective mother who has been amply insulated for 
the first snow of winter. Her bright eyes still glittered, but 
she looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Yes, here. Warn us 
if Fiddleback brings us any surprises. You okay?" 
She nodded. "First time I've felt warm in a while." 
Sin laughed and winked at her, then dashed out the 
door and down the hallway. The ninjas of Falcon Team 
his teamhad reached the far end of the security corridor. 
"Jytte, we're at the end of the hallway." 
Sin got no reply over the radio, but the door latch 
buzzed. He twisted the knob, killing the sound in seconds 
and stepped out into the corridor. To the right it looked 
clear, but a guard emerged from the men's room at the far 
end of the corridor. Left hand pressed against his sagging 
stomach to hold it back, he tugged at his fly with his right. 
He looked up with that surprised, fearful expression worn 
by anyone who had been caught with his fly undone in 
public, then started to take a half-step backward when he 
saw Sin's gun. 
Sin snapped off his first shot hurriedly, creasing the 
man's stomach. The gun made almost no sound because 
of the silencer, but the metallic thwang of the bullet 
ricocheting off the bathroom door jamb sounded incredibly 
loud to his ears. The guard gave a yelp, then 
scrambled into the lavatory on all fours. 
Sin and two IDC ninjas chased after him. They paused 
at the door, and one ninja tossed a concussion grenade 
into the room. By way of return, they got two shots fired 
back at them. The bullets blew through the tile wall and out 
through the plasterboard wall in the hallway, but aside 


from stinging plaster shrapnel, the blind shots did no 
harm. 
The concussion grenade went off with a loud bang. 
Smoke poured from the narrow, tiled corridor leading into 
the washroom. The lead ninja swept the room with crisscrossing 
patterns of fire, tracing an X on the wall of the 
stalls. The toilet bowls shattered, and a body splashed 
down back in the corner. Water mixed with blood ran out 
and into the central drain. 
"Falcon is compromised. Let the Dogs go." Sin heard 
acknowledgments through his radio, then met the rest of 
his team back out in the corridor. They pressed on, 
heading toward the area in which the students had been 
housed. "Hal, does Jytte have a room number for Ryuhito 
yet?" 
"Negative, Falcon. She's working on it." 
He heard Nagashita's voice on the radio link. "Eagle is 
moving into the islands." 
"Roger that, Eagle." Hal's voice paused for a second. 
"Falcon, Eagle, we have a change in the schedules. 
Ryuhito should be in the Sun Court right now. Go!" 
The Sun Court, Sin recalled from the orientation tour, 
was the largest of the island courtyards that ran through 
the center of the complex. Located north of the Khmer and 
Yellowstone courtyards, it had a huge circular fountain full 
of solar imagery done in a Mesoamerican style reminiscent 
of the Aztecs. Their guide had described it as a place 
used for initiation ceremonies and celebrations like marriages. 
She had said the fountain could double as baptismal 
font, if needed, and was lit at night. 
Sin sprinted down the corridor and took his first left 
down another corridor. The second corridor linked the two 
halves of the complex, so he fired twice at the big plate-
glass window, then stepped through the hole as soon as 
the glass stopped falling. That brought him out into the 
junglelike Khmer courtyard. He ran to the nearest palm 
tree and slapped his back against it. 
"Falcon is in K-land. We're inbound for Helios." 
"Eagle has Y-land. Converging on Helios." 
"Falcon, be advised Rajani has bolted." 
"What? Why?" 
"Don't know. She ran out of here fast." 
Shit! Sin nodded at two of his ninjas and sent them 
running forward to the next position. The white, serpentine 
paths of crushed stone all converged on the open area in 
the center where he had been enjoying drinks with Ryuhito 
before things had fallen apart. In their advance, Falcon 
team avoided the pathways and headed on an oblique 
angle toward the middle. 
Peering out from behind the bole of another palm tree, 
Sin saw the giant stonehead had vanished. He thought he 


saw something else there, but couldn't be certain, so he 
waved two people to the edge of cover to check it out. As 
they moved up, he saw the head's replacement move, 
and he dove for cover screaming "Down!" into his radio. 
The RamTech Roboguard IV had been painted over in 
the orange and black striping of a tiger, but its resemblance 
to any living thing ended there. It squatted in the 
middle of the courtyard like a streamlined mechanical 
toad, only rising up to its full three meters of height when 
it flicked on its running lights. The clawed feet dug into the 
gravel with a crunch as the stubby, L-shaped right arm 
mounted on the side of its clamlike body raked back and 
forth across the courtyard. The 9mm bullets from the 
built-in submachinegun sliced through the undergrowth 
at a meter above the ground. 
The projectiles shredded vegetation and cut one of 
Sin's two scouts in half. His companion had started to dive 
for cover and caught a line of slugs in a bar sinister across 
her chest. She went down hard, and Sin could hear air 
bubbling up out of her lungs in the darkness. 
Below the Roboguard's body, the heavy barrel of a 
25mm cannon waggled obscenely at Falcon team. Having 
seen the specs on the RamTech monstrosity, Sin knew 
that cannon could tear apart armored vehicles. Likewise, 
the heavier M2 machinegun located right below the SMG 
in the right arm could punch through anything his team 
had, but in keeping with the RamTech programming, the 
Roboguard had only used as much firepower as it needed 
to get the job done. 

saw something else there, but couldn't be certain, so he 
waved two people to the edge of cover to check it out. As 
they moved up, he saw the head's replacement move, 
and he dove for cover screaming "Down!" into his radio. 
The RamTech Roboguard IV had been painted over in 
the orange and black striping of a tiger, but its resemblance 
to any living thing ended there. It squatted in the 
middle of the courtyard like a streamlined mechanical 
toad, only rising up to its full three meters of height when 
it flicked on its running lights. The clawed feet dug into the 
gravel with a crunch as the stubby, L-shaped right arm 
mounted on the side of its clamlike body raked back and 
forth across the courtyard. The 9mm bullets from the 
built-in submachinegun sliced through the undergrowth 
at a meter above the ground. 
The projectiles shredded vegetation and cut one of 
Sin's two scouts in half. His companion had started to dive 
for cover and caught a line of slugs in a bar sinister across 
her chest. She went down hard, and Sin could hear air 
bubbling up out of her lungs in the darkness. 
Below the Roboguard's body, the heavy barrel of a 
25mm cannon waggled obscenely at Falcon team. Having 
seen the specs on the RamTech monstrosity, Sin knew 
that cannon could tear apart armored vehicles. Likewise, 
the heavier M2 machinegun located right below the SMG 
in the right arm could punch through anything his team 
had, but in keeping with the RamTech programming, the 
Roboguard had only used as much firepower as it needed 
to get the job done. 

Suddenly, Sin heard gravel being crushed under running 
feet. He glanced to the right and saw Rajani sprint 
past along the path, heading right for the Roboguard. "No, 
Rajani, no!" She's not even got a gun! 
The Roboguard's left arm rotated outward and tracked 
her. Sin heard an explosive hiss of compressed air, then 
saw Rajani stumble and fall. It only darted her. She could 
still be alive. The hope that thought inspired died quickly 
as the Roboguard sidled over like a big bird approaching 
an egg and crouched above her recumbent body. 
"Hal, we've got a RamTech Roboguard IV here holding 
K-land and Rajani." Sin licked his lips. "If Jytte's been 
saving a security-cracking miracle, now is the time to use 
it." He ducked his head as another 9mm burst swept 
through the undergrowth. "If not, the only way we're 
getting to Ryuhito is in another incarnation." 



Rajani felt her heart skip a beat as Sin ran out of the 
command center. She started to send him a message 
telepathically, but stopped when she realized he had more 
than enough to think about without her distracting him. 

Rajani felt her heart skip a beat as Sin ran out of the 
command center. She started to send him a message 
telepathically, but stopped when she realized he had more 
than enough to think about without her distracting him. 

She appropriated a high-backed chair and sat in it, 
sinking deep into the cushions. She focused herself and 
purposely tuned out the algorithms and equations bleeding 
off Jytte like radio static. She found it more difficult to 
push past Hal's underlying hatred of violence, but she 
worked around it and let her mind float. She sensed both 
the Eagle and Falcon teams as they moved purposefully 
to their jobs, then went out beyond the buildings. 
In her mind she visualized them as being akin to the 
blueprints Hal had spread out on the desk, but she 
reversed the colors so the walls and doors became a neon 
blue in a navy blue background. Sailing up over the walls, 
she started spotting and fixing in her mind where people 
were. For a second, a yellow lifelight burned down the 
hallway near Falcon team, then it winked out. Then, way 
out, she saw a number of lights blazing away, including the 
double-sized one she knew to be Bat. 
In the vast courtyards she saw no one. "Hal, Khmer and 
Yellowstone look clear. Dogs are closing on the guards out 
at that end." 
"Are you sure about the courtyards?" 
Rajani nodded and checked them again. "Clear. No life 
signs." 
"What about the Sun Court?" 
"Clear. Wait." She frowned and shifted uncomfortably 
in the chair. To her mind, that large central circle looked 
clear, but she had a hard time concentrating on it. 
"Something is not right." 
"Hal, Ryuhito should be in the Sun Court, according to 
this schedule I've found." 
"Checking." Rajani let her anger power her, and she 
again focused on the Sun Court. As if her anger were a 
hammer, the black shroud shielding that area crumpled. 
Golden lights filled it, but at the center she saw a brilliant 
white light burning like magnesium and a tainted green-
gray light beside it. "Ryuhito is there in the Sun Court. I'm 
sure of it." 
She heard Hal's voice squawk over the radio, but the 
earpiece pulled free of her ear as she jerked her head to 
the right. The blackness tried to shut her out again, but she 
fought it and forced it to remain down. She saw Falcon and 
Eagle teams moving toward the Sun Court, and confidence 
strengthened her. 
Suddenly, a malignant green beam shot down through 
the sky and impaled the gray-green glow. For a moment, 


she saw the black silhouette of a centauroid spider 
creature devour the green-gray speck, then that speck 
returned with black marbling running through it, shifting 
from moment to moment. 
The green light shot out through the holes in the 
marbling and slammed into all the gold sparks surrounding 
it. She saw the green energy surround the bright light 
and mask its brilliance. Then a jade circle expanded and 
eclipsed the original ball, but Rajani realized too late that 
it meant one of the green beams was coming for her. 
She felt it slam into her forehead, and she jerked back 
in the chair. I am here for you, it communicated to her. 
Come to me, come to me all. 

she saw the black silhouette of a centauroid spider 
creature devour the green-gray speck, then that speck 
returned with black marbling running through it, shifting 
from moment to moment. 
The green light shot out through the holes in the 
marbling and slammed into all the gold sparks surrounding 
it. She saw the green energy surround the bright light 
and mask its brilliance. Then a jade circle expanded and 
eclipsed the original ball, but Rajani realized too late that 
it meant one of the green beams was coming for her. 
She felt it slam into her forehead, and she jerked back 
in the chair. I am here for you, it communicated to her. 
Come to me, come to me all. 


it could produce. 

it could produce. 
! 
No, daughter, you are not! 


Off to the right, a huge figure stood and raised a rifle of 
immense proportions. The Roboguard started to pivot 
right. The machine's right arm began tracking, then the 
underslung ball turret moved, then the arm again. By the 
time its decision tree determined the target did not fit any 
known attack profile, and it tried to bring all its weapons 
to bear, the giant's finger pulled the trigger. 
The PTRS's projectile weighed over two and a quarter 
total ounces. By the time the four-foot-long muzzle flame 
chased it from the gun's barrel, it had accelerated to 3320 
feet per second. At that speed, the bullet traveled the 20 
meters from the muzzle to the Roboguard roughly three 
times faster than the sound of it being fired. 
The teflon-coated tungsten projectile hit the Roboguard 
right beneath the spot where a GBI employee had lovingly 
painted one of the tiger's eyes. At the moment of impact, 
the Roboguard's armor began to bend and heat with the 
transfer of kinetic energy from the shell. The interior of the 
armor plating spalled off, spraying metal fragments through 
the CPU and severing fiber-optic connections to one of the 
two gyroscopes that kept it upright. That alone would 
have been enough to take the machine out of action. 
The teflon coating reduced friction between the 
bullet and the armor so its speed had only bled down 
to Mach 2.5 when the tungsten rod fully penetrated the 
Roboguard's armor. At that point, the shell's outer 
sheath began to telescope down, injecting the incendiary 
charge into the interior of the Roboguard's body. 
Those chemicals, which had ignited on impact, blossomed 
into a fireball as they got enough oxygen to 
combust. In the blink of an eye, the sophisticated 
sensors, custom ROMs and electrical relays that gave 
the Roboguard the illusion of life and sentience vanished 
into greasy smoke and molten sludge. 
The tungsten rod continued its flight and pierced the 
other side of the Roboguard's armor. Jets of fire shot out 
both the entry and exit wound like flames snorted by a 
dragon. They illuminated the whole Khmer courtyard, 
then vanished into dark after-images. The Roboguard 
froze in its last position and, unbalanced, toppled over on 
its right side. 
Rajani rolled to the left and away from the shower of 
stones the claws tossed into the air when the machine 
went down. She clutched at her throat, but could not find 
the dart. More importantly to her, though, she didn't find 
a gaping wound where her throat should have been, and 
she checked twice because she could not believe how 
little blood she had on her hands. 


Sin skidded to a halt beside her and pulled her into the 
shadow of the Roboguard. "Are you all right?" 
She nodded, then looked up beyond him as two other 
figures came running over. One she did not recognize at 
all, but the other...Father? 
Yes, Rajani. It is me. 


Her head craned back as she slowly stood. The creature 
answering her question towered above her. She recognized 
his color and his tattooing, yet he had changed 
incredibly since she had last seen him: the tusks and the 
extra pair of arms. Even his mind felt different as he spoke 
to her. Even so, there at the core she found someone 
familiar. 
Smiling, she threw her arms around him. Father! She 
lay her head against his chest and nestled herself in the 
security of his four-armed hug. 
Another mental voice pushed through the area and 
intruded on her happiness. From the surprised look on 
Sin's face, Rajani knew he heard it, too. Ollie, Ollie in free! 
Come to the Zun Court, my friendz! Come one, come all! 


Underlying the message, Rajani heard the human voice 
she had heard before, but the bulk came straight from 
Fiddleback. That made her fight to resist it, but she could 
find no hostility in the call. It might have been arrogant and 
patronizing, but not overtly threatening. 
Her father looked at his companion, and both of them 
nodded. "This is our only play," her father's friend said. "If 
you get a shot at Fiddleback, take it." 
"I will." 
As she left her father's strong embrace, she sensed 
from both him and his companion reluctance and resignation. 
They knew the Sun Court would be a trap, but it 
would also be their best chance to rescue Ryuhito. They 
knew that fighting a Dark Lord straight up was foolish, but 
her father's companion also believed Fiddleback's ego 
and confidence would give them an opening to defeat 
him. 
Sin walked a little ahead of her on the way to the Sun 
Court, but looked back and smiled confidently. "We'll win 
this one. Trust me." 
Rajani returned his smile. "You, I trust. Fiddleback, I 
don't." 
All four followed the Falcon team ninjas into the Sun 
Court and pushed on through to the front of the ninja 
ranks. Off to her left, she saw Eagle team with Colonel 
Nagashita at its head. Hal and Jytte appeared between her 
and Eagle team, and the Yakuza appeared with Natch, 
Bat and Kazuo on the right. Between her and the fountain, 
Rajani saw all sorts of folks dressed for the party Sin had 
quit earlier in the evening, and arrayed out beyond the 
circle of the fountain she spotted two dozen GBI security 



guards. 
What attracted her attention most was Arrigo El-
Leichter. His fists balled, his cruciform body floated 10 feet 
above the illuminated base of the fountain. Below him, 
suspended between heaven and Earth, Ryuhito stood on 
a hovering green disk. Verdant energy crackled from a 
halo around Arrigo's head, and she saw it reflected in the 
eyes of noncombatants ringing the fountain. 
Arrigo's head came up, and his face locked into a 
demonic grin. "Ah, my pet haz returned to hiz zpawning 
plaze. Zplendid that the prodigal zon be prezent for thiz." 
He shifted his gaze and looked at everyone. "You are here 
to birth in a new order on thiz world." 
Rajani felt his stare as if it were a lecherous caress, and 
she immediately wanted to bathe. She retreated a step to 
the right, and Sin slipped his left arm over her shoulder. 
She shuddered, and he hugged her. 
"Ryuhito haz azked for a practical demonztration of the 
power I have to offer him. You know of thiz, your Internal 
Defenze Cadre?" 
Hands clasped at the small of his back, Ryuhito nodded 
curtly. "I also see that Mr.MacNeal has returned, when you 
said he had been dealt with." 
"That waz not me, but the vezzel I now occupy." Arrigo's 
body brought its arms together so his fists touched above 
his head. "You wizh to zee power? You wizh to zee that 
which I will give to you?" His arms shook, and his hands 
disappeared in long gouts of green fire. The flames swept 
over the crowd without burning anyone, then evaporated. 
"Thiz iz power." 
"It's nothing," Sin laughed. "It's gone." 
Rajani shuddered again. "It's not gone, Sin. Look at 
their eyes. Look at his disciples' eyes." 

guards. 
What attracted her attention most was Arrigo El-
Leichter. His fists balled, his cruciform body floated 10 feet 
above the illuminated base of the fountain. Below him, 
suspended between heaven and Earth, Ryuhito stood on 
a hovering green disk. Verdant energy crackled from a 
halo around Arrigo's head, and she saw it reflected in the 
eyes of noncombatants ringing the fountain. 
Arrigo's head came up, and his face locked into a 
demonic grin. "Ah, my pet haz returned to hiz zpawning 
plaze. Zplendid that the prodigal zon be prezent for thiz." 
He shifted his gaze and looked at everyone. "You are here 
to birth in a new order on thiz world." 
Rajani felt his stare as if it were a lecherous caress, and 
she immediately wanted to bathe. She retreated a step to 
the right, and Sin slipped his left arm over her shoulder. 
She shuddered, and he hugged her. 
"Ryuhito haz azked for a practical demonztration of the 
power I have to offer him. You know of thiz, your Internal 
Defenze Cadre?" 
Hands clasped at the small of his back, Ryuhito nodded 
curtly. "I also see that Mr.MacNeal has returned, when you 
said he had been dealt with." 
"That waz not me, but the vezzel I now occupy." Arrigo's 
body brought its arms together so his fists touched above 
his head. "You wizh to zee power? You wizh to zee that 
which I will give to you?" His arms shook, and his hands 
disappeared in long gouts of green fire. The flames swept 
over the crowd without burning anyone, then evaporated. 
"Thiz iz power." 
"It's nothing," Sin laughed. "It's gone." 
Rajani shuddered again. "It's not gone, Sin. Look at 
their eyes. Look at his disciples' eyes." 
Coyote did not need Rajani's warning to tell him 
something was very wrong. Right in front of him he saw 
a rather plain woman's head and body jerk down as if she 
were in great pain. Her head curled on through her 
stomach, and her upper body followed, emerging on the 
other side of her spine. As the ripple effect continued to 
turn the woman inside out, swallowing her arms and legs 
as it went, she rebirthed herself as a 20-foot-long snake 
with a woman's head and a serpent's fangs glistening with 
venom. She coiled herself sensuously and flicked a forked 
tongue at him. 
All around her, throughout the crowd that had willingly 
accepted Fiddleback's invitation to join him in power, 
other people started to change. One obese man's flesh 


disappeared back into himself as if his bones were 
sponges soaking it all up. He looked down at his skeletal 
body, then threw his head back in an attitude that should 
have been accompanied by wild laughter, but without 
lungs and vocal chords, the only sound he made came 
from the raspy click of his mandibles grinding in their 
sockets. 
As Coyote saw others transform into bizarre creatures, 
none exactly like another, he figured out the one thing 
linking them all. The plain woman became a serpentine 
seductress. The fat man became thin. A slight, balding 
man bulked out and had a thick, black pelt covering him 
with Coyote certain the man would have become a 
gorfash if he had known to model himself on one. Each of 
these people is becoming a caricature of what they most 
desire to be. Fiddleback's gift is like a wish granted by an 
evil djinn. A child never again wishing to be hungry 
would find himself alone on an island with an unending 
supply of moldy bread and rancid butter. 
Thiz iz becauze they are pawnz, Jaeger/Coyote. They 
are what they have made themzelvez to be. You are what 
I have wrought. You are a leader, and they are deztined to 
be your minionz. 

disappeared back into himself as if his bones were 
sponges soaking it all up. He looked down at his skeletal 
body, then threw his head back in an attitude that should 
have been accompanied by wild laughter, but without 
lungs and vocal chords, the only sound he made came 
from the raspy click of his mandibles grinding in their 
sockets. 
As Coyote saw others transform into bizarre creatures, 
none exactly like another, he figured out the one thing 
linking them all. The plain woman became a serpentine 
seductress. The fat man became thin. A slight, balding 
man bulked out and had a thick, black pelt covering him 
with Coyote certain the man would have become a 
gorfash if he had known to model himself on one. Each of 
these people is becoming a caricature of what they most 
desire to be. Fiddleback's gift is like a wish granted by an 
evil djinn. A child never again wishing to be hungry 
would find himself alone on an island with an unending 
supply of moldy bread and rancid butter. 
Thiz iz becauze they are pawnz, Jaeger/Coyote. They 
are what they have made themzelvez to be. You are what 
I have wrought. You are a leader, and they are deztined to 
be your minionz. 


sustained him. Unworthy as morsels, he saw them as 
threats in that they had the ability to destroy the creatures 
upon which his vast hunger fed. 

sustained him. Unworthy as morsels, he saw them as 
threats in that they had the ability to destroy the creatures 
upon which his vast hunger fed. 

The exultant tone in Fiddleback's voice sent a ripple of 
contempt through Coyote's mind. In the one second of 
clarity he had in its wake, he picked up a counterpoint to 
the joy and happiness still coming from those creatures he 
had allowed to become one with him. It resonated in low 
tones, but pulsed with dark energy. He dove down, 
clawing through all the positive affirmations and undying 
statements of gratitude. There, where his soul narrowed 
down into its blackest corner, he found the source of the 
undercurrent, and it greedily pulled him inward. 
Like black pearls that had been pitted and scarred by 
acid, he saw the fears and terrors of those Fiddleback had 
changed. Clinging to themselves, naked, cold and malnourished, 
the core identities of the people decayed. Flesh 
sloughed off in dry ashes. The trembling horror and anger 
shot out from them like dark rays that twisted and warped 
into the green energy empowering their new selves. They 
had been changed, but only through the torture of who 
and what they had been. 

Now you know the zource. Now it iz all revealed to 
you. Come to me, my pet. Take up your rightful place at 
my right hand. What you azk will be yourz, if you will be 
mine! 

"No!" Coyote leveled the Stormcloud at the snake 
woman as she reared back to strike. His first burst hit her 
two feet below her head, stopping her lunge more effectively 
than a stone wall. The second cloud of pellets 
obliterated her face. Her body went limp for a second as 
her head arced down to the ground, then uncoiled with a 
spasmodic jerk, causing the skeleton man to jump back. 
A huge winged shape that looked like the improbable 
marriage of pterodactyl wings to a shark's body soared 
into the air. It looped once to build up airspeed, then came 
in on an attack vector with its razor-studded jaws agape. 
It hit one of ninjas and lifted her up into the air, then 
dropped her screaming body as it gobbled down her left 
arm. 
Sin turned and snapped two silent rounds off at the 
flying shark. Holes appeared in the taut, fleshy membrane 
of one wing. The shark dipped that wing and arced down 
into a turn that set it up for a run at Sin. 
Coyote tracked it with the Stormcloud and hit the 
trigger twice. The buckshot chewed a crescent bite out of 
the shark's dorsal fin, but did not even slow it down. The 
Dragonfire round, by contrast, did. The 25-foot-long 


flame jet hit the shark over its left-side gill slits. The fire 
stream continued virtually unabated out the other side, 
then the creature vomited flames. Its eyes went dead, and 
it crashed into the ground, rolling over and over, like a 
child's broken glider. 
Men and monsters alike scattered as a mottled red and 
blue triceratops stampeded through the courtyard. Tracer 
rounds from submachineguns glanced off its bony shield 
and sailed like fireworks into the night sky. Blood glistened 
black from its horns, and a blue satin Yakuza jacket 
flapped like a pennant from the left-most one. 
Coyote turned to bring the Stormcloud to bear on the 
charging beast, but the Yidam's secondary arms pushed 
him aside. The alien giant calmly raised his PTRS to his 
shoulder and sighted down it like a white bwana hunting 
rhinoceri. The dinosaur, its eyes glowing with human 
knowledge of its invulnerability, raced straight at the 
Yidam. 
The gun roared once, and the recoil slewed the Yidam 
all the way around so that he faced away from his target. 
The bullet hit the charging triceratops cleanly between the 
eyes, punching through the skull as if it were made of sunbaked 
clay. The tungsten core blew back through the hole 
in the skull that allowed for the entry of the spine and spun 
its way through the creature's body. The incendiary 
charge exploded in the tiny brain case, blowing the eyes 
back out on fiery pillars, then splitting the skull like a 
dropped melon. 
The triceratops' nose dipped, digging into the ground 
like an anchor. Its body piled up behind the broad shield, 
stopping the creature barely seven meters from the 
Yidam. Its body settled back, leaving its legs splayed 
forward, then lolled over on its left side. 
The skeleton man vaulted the triceratops' corpse like 
an X-ray of Bruce Lee. The bony fingers of his left hand 
slashed the face of one Yakuza to ribbons. The skeleton 
man hooked his right hand up underneath the rib cage of 
a second Yakuza and carelessly tossed him back over his 
shoulder. The Yakuza flailed his arms and legs as he flew, 
but could do nothing to prevent himself from being 
impaled on the triceratops' horns when he landed. 
A look of pure, unadulterated joy lit Bat's face as he 
yanked two Yakuza back by the scruff of their necks to get 
at the skeleton man. The monster slashed at him with 
bloody claws, but Bat stepped back and contemptuously 
slapped the blows aside. The skeleton man's head came 
up in surprise, and Coyote knew he had realized that as 
frightening and dangerous as he might be, a trained fighter 
he was not. 
Bat's right fist hammered that point home as it exploded 
on the skeleton man's jaw. Bone shattered, litter



ing the ground with teeth and bits of mandible. Bat's left 
fist came up in a murderous hook that snapped ribs. His 
right foot came down, crushing foot bones into ivory 
splinters, then another right first fractured the skeleton 
man's left collarbone. 
The skeleton man turned to run away, but even before 
he could bump into the dinosaur's corpse, Bat grabbed his 
spine in his left hand. Pleasure melting Bat's face into a 
nightmare mask, he reached down and took a firm hold 
of the skeleton man's right femur. Twisting it left and then 
right again, Bat ripped it free. As the bones below the knee 
dropped away in an inanimate pile, Bat spun the femur 
around and crashed it down through the skeleton man's 
skull. 
Colonel Nagashita quickly crossed the open area 
between him and the hirsute behemoth created out of the 
small, balding man. The creature took one swipe at him 
with a fist the size of Nagashita's head. The IDC ninja 
leader ducked beneath the blow, then darted forward. 
Coyote saw a flash of light as Nagashita drew his katana 
and heard the creature utter a soft oof as the blade passed 
through its chest. Its upper half started to pivot toward the 
ninja, but when its lower half failed to start the same 
maneuver, the creature fell over backward, dead before it 
hit the ground. 

ing the ground with teeth and bits of mandible. Bat's left 
fist came up in a murderous hook that snapped ribs. His 
right foot came down, crushing foot bones into ivory 
splinters, then another right first fractured the skeleton 
man's left collarbone. 
The skeleton man turned to run away, but even before 
he could bump into the dinosaur's corpse, Bat grabbed his 
spine in his left hand. Pleasure melting Bat's face into a 
nightmare mask, he reached down and took a firm hold 
of the skeleton man's right femur. Twisting it left and then 
right again, Bat ripped it free. As the bones below the knee 
dropped away in an inanimate pile, Bat spun the femur 
around and crashed it down through the skeleton man's 
skull. 
Colonel Nagashita quickly crossed the open area 
between him and the hirsute behemoth created out of the 
small, balding man. The creature took one swipe at him 
with a fist the size of Nagashita's head. The IDC ninja 
leader ducked beneath the blow, then darted forward. 
Coyote saw a flash of light as Nagashita drew his katana 
and heard the creature utter a soft oof as the blade passed 
through its chest. Its upper half started to pivot toward the 
ninja, but when its lower half failed to start the same 
maneuver, the creature fell over backward, dead before it 
hit the ground. 

From beyond the fountain, GBI's transformed guards 
entered the battle. Walking tall like men, they had become 
sable-coated wolves with glowing green eyes. A snapping, 
howling pack, they fell on the Yakuza and ninjas as 
they streamed in toward Coyote and his people. Coyote 
turned and nailed one with a close-range blast that tore 
one of its arms clean off, but the wolfman kept coming. 
To his right, Sin dropped one with a single shot that went 
in right above its snarling muzzle and exploded out the 
back of its head. Beyond him, another died as Bat used the 
skeleton man's femur to cave its skull in. Natch popped 
a three-shot burst from her MP-7 through one's spine, 
taking it out of the fight, and Nagashita killed another by 
decapitating it. 
"Brain or spine!" Coyote shouted as he opened one up 
with a shotgun blast. Despite his best effort, it took another 
shot to kill it, and, despite his warning, the wolfmen 
pressed forward. Fiddleback's foul power, channeled out 
through El-Leichter's eyes, rebuilt new wolfmen from the 
scattered parts of the old ones. 
Coyote tapped Sin on the shoulder and signaled him 
back a step while he used the Stormcloud to knock 
another wolfman down. "Where can we go? We're losing!" 


Sin snapped off two shots that blew fist-sized chunks 
from a wolfman's head. "The main building. Room-toroom 
fighting, but they'll know it better than us." 
Dammit! I have to do something! The press of wolfmen 
had already split the IDC ninjas off from his group, though 
they seemed to be holding their own against the former 
guards. We are losing! 
Join me, Coyote. I will then let you win! 

Sin snapped off two shots that blew fist-sized chunks 
from a wolfman's head. "The main building. Room-toroom 
fighting, but they'll know it better than us." 
Dammit! I have to do something! The press of wolfmen 
had already split the IDC ninjas off from his group, though 
they seemed to be holding their own against the former 
guards. We are losing! 
Join me, Coyote. I will then let you win! 

The Yakuza started to break and run as Bat went down 
with a howling wolfman on him. The howl shifted to a yelp 
of pain as Bat regained his feet and held the creature aloft 
by its head. With his left hand clamping its muzzle shut and 
his right hand capping its skull, Bat wrenched his hands 
hard to the right. The creature's body twisted along with 
its head, preventing him from breaking its neck, but the 
spasmodic jerking of its body showed he'd clearly hurt it. 
Not content with that, Bat shifted his right hand down to 
the front of its throat and grabbed a handful of stomach 
muscles with his left. He slammed the wolfman down on 
the edge of the triceratops' shield, snapping its spine like 
a candy cane. 
Though Bat's victory heartened Coyote, he knew they 
could not stand. A dozen of the wolfmen broke off to chase 
the fleeing Yakuza, but the rest poured around the open 
right flank and threatened to sweep around to cut off their 
retreat. Coyote could barely see the encysted ninjas off on 
the left for all the wolfmen attacking them. As the 
Stormcloud's breech snapped open and he unconsciously 
reached for a nonexistent spare clip, he knew the end had 
come. 

Thiz iz your lazt chance, Coyote! Come to me. Now! 

The sheer desperation in Fiddleback's sending made 
defying him easy, but still he hesitated. Cut and bleeding, 
his friends pulled back, fighting against forces that would 
engulf and devour them. Coyote knew, deep down, that 
if he accepted Fiddleback's power, he could keep his 
friends safe. Then he also realized that when he accepted 
Fiddleback's power, he would have no desire to keep 
them safe. 
With a butt stroke from the Stormcloud he shattered a 
wolfman's skull and forced himself to ignore the stinging 
furrows left in his chest from its claw. "Never, Fiddleback, 
never." 
No! Fiddleback's frustrated screech sliced through 


his brain like a razor, but Coyote realized it was not 
directed at him. He sensed another power entering the 
Sun Court. He saw nothing at first, but noticed instantly 
that both El-Leichter and the wolfmen turned their attention 
back to their own rear area. He heard choked-off yips 
of pain, then saw a limp canine body flip end over end 
through the air. 
Through gaps in the humanoid pack, he saw a slender, 
dark-haired, clean-limbed youth rendered in shades of 
reflected green and black. His hands and feet moved with 
blurring speed, and black blood covered his arms from the 
elbow down. Over his body, worked lovingly in bold swirls 
that helped define his musculature, black lines both thick 
and thin decorated him. 
Where he struck, a body fell and, if it moved after that, 
only gravity or an involuntary muscular twitch was the 
cause. 
"How dare you!" Arrigo spun in the air and scattered his 
soldiers with the wave of a hand. 
The youth stopped in the oasis strewn with the torn 
bodies of his enemies, and blood streamed off his body. 
Beyond him, back where it could have been a gate in a 
wall, a golden circle glowed, and the tiny silhouette of a 
man slowly grew within it. Coyote thought, because of the 
image's size, that the man was far away, but when the 
silhouette assumed its full three dimensions, he saw the 
figure was indeed small. 
"I dare. I dare many things, Fiddleback." 
"You? You were nothing, and I gave you all you are. I 
now revoke my giftz to you." Arrigo El-Leichter's body 
pulsed out power. "Die!" 
The little man, still hidden in the shadow of his warrior, 
waved the threat away. "Kill him." 
Before the youthful assassin could move, Colonel 
Nagashita ran forward, vaulted off a mound of wolfman 
corpses and leaped into the air. He drove his katana 
through El-Leichter's abdomen. The look of betrayed 
surprise on El-Leichter's face metamorphed into a triumphant 
leer as he caught Nagashita up in both hands and 
started to compress his chest. 
"Kill them both, then," the little man ordered his 
assassin. 
He had no chance. As El-Leichter dug his fingers into 
Nagashita's ribs, the ninja leader twisted his own hands 
and rotated the katana blade 180 degrees in the wound. 
Ribs popped, and Nagashita jerked, but he retained his 
grip on the sword. He tugged up, then sawed the blade 
back and forth. Blood and entrails streamed from ElLeichter's 
wound, dripping down into the fountain's shallow 
basin, and the blood pouring from Nagashita's mouth 
soon mixed with them. 


With one final effort, Nagashita twisted the blade 
around and brought it across, severing El-Leichter's 
spine. The green nimbus surrounding him died and, 
locked with Nagashita in death, he fell to the pool. The 
water flashed red, then green, then erupted in an explosion 
of green steam. 
When it cleared, Coyote saw no one in the fountain. So 
that is the dimensional gate here! He looked up to see if 
the Japanese man who had been hovering with him had 
fallen outside the fountain, or had been taken along with 
the two corpses. He did not see him at first, but then looked 
up and saw the man floating in a golden throne. 
The little man stepped forward into the backlight of the 
throne. "So, Ryuhito, do you want the power Fiddleback 
offers you, or would you like what I can offer you?" A smug 
expression of superiority accompanied the smile on the 
little man's face. "He provides you the power to transform 
yourself. I can give you the power to transform others. I 
offer my herald as a simple example of my art." 
Jytte dropped to her knees. "Pygmalion!" 
Rajani stared at him. "Nicholas!" 
The little man smiled at Jytte, raising his right hand as 
if to caress her face. "You were one of my finest creations, 
Jytte. And you, Rajani, were always an annoyance. 
Mickey, kill her." 
"Mickey?" Rajani cried out as the assassin started 
toward her. 
He hesitated for a half-second, which gave Bat all the 
time he needed. Streaking across the battle line, he 
tackled Mickey and brought him down. Both of Bat's arms 
slipped up through Mickey's armpits and around the back 
of his neck. Locking his legs around Mickey's waist, Bat 
rolled up into a sitting position. The muscles in his arms 
and back bunched as he began to pull back on Mickey's 
arms and press his head forward. 
"No, Bat, no!" Rajani screamed at him. "He's only a 
child!" 
Pygmalion looked over at his charge and seemed about 
to issue an order when the golden gate behind him 
collapsed into nothingness. This appeared to disturb him 
for a second, then he turned back and frowned. "Ryuhito, 
if you enthrall yourself to Fiddleback, you will be his slave. 
I know, for I was until I made Lucifer's choice. As you can 
see, I do with one what Fiddleback could not oppose with 
many. Come with me, and I will give you this world to do 
with as you wish." 
Ryuhito nodded. The golden throne flared in intensity 
and became a sphere. It contracted down to the size of a 
walnut, then floated over and landed in Pygmalion's open 
right palm. 
Pygmalion smiled like a man who had just found an 


object for which he had searched his entire life. "Though 
I regret it, it seems I must leave you all alive here." He 
studied his surroundings for a moment, then let his gaze 
linger upon the gold sphere in his hand. "I bid you adieu." 
"I go!" Mickey's voice squealed anxiously. 
Pygmalion regarded him coldly. "I hardly think so." 
"I go? See Dorothy? You promised?" 
"You failed me, Mickey." The little man held the gold 
sphere up like a jewel and smiled at its glow. "I do not need 
those who fail, Mickey." 
"You promised!" Mickey's voice grew hoarse with the 
shout, and he struggled against Bat. "You promised!" 
"And that promise is broken, just as is the promise I 
thought I saw in you. You failed Mickey." Pygmalion spit 
on the ground. "You are nothing." 
Coyote saw the boy try to twist free from Bat's hold, 
then he went limp and began to sob. Bat, still holding the 
boy tightly, seemed at a loss to deal with him. Mickey 
hung like a scarecrow in Bat's arms, tears streaming down 
his face and washing the blood from his convulsing chest. 
Pygmalion smiled, then looked up at the others. "Consider 
him a presentand a warning. I have an army of 
warriors modeled after him. They will ensure that my work 
with Ryuhito will be uninterrupted. This you will soon see, 
and you had best prepare yourselves for that day." 
Sin slammed a new clip home in his Beretta. "I'm ready 
now." 
"How glib, how droll." Pygmalion palmed the sphere, 
and its light died. "When we return, you will venerate him 
as your emperor, and you will worship me as your god." 
His laughter filled the courtyard, but by the time it echoed 
back to the center, he had vanished in a burst of gold light. 

object for which he had searched his entire life. "Though 
I regret it, it seems I must leave you all alive here." He 
studied his surroundings for a moment, then let his gaze 
linger upon the gold sphere in his hand. "I bid you adieu." 
"I go!" Mickey's voice squealed anxiously. 
Pygmalion regarded him coldly. "I hardly think so." 
"I go? See Dorothy? You promised?" 
"You failed me, Mickey." The little man held the gold 
sphere up like a jewel and smiled at its glow. "I do not need 
those who fail, Mickey." 
"You promised!" Mickey's voice grew hoarse with the 
shout, and he struggled against Bat. "You promised!" 
"And that promise is broken, just as is the promise I 
thought I saw in you. You failed Mickey." Pygmalion spit 
on the ground. "You are nothing." 
Coyote saw the boy try to twist free from Bat's hold, 
then he went limp and began to sob. Bat, still holding the 
boy tightly, seemed at a loss to deal with him. Mickey 
hung like a scarecrow in Bat's arms, tears streaming down 
his face and washing the blood from his convulsing chest. 
Pygmalion smiled, then looked up at the others. "Consider 
him a presentand a warning. I have an army of 
warriors modeled after him. They will ensure that my work 
with Ryuhito will be uninterrupted. This you will soon see, 
and you had best prepare yourselves for that day." 
Sin slammed a new clip home in his Beretta. "I'm ready 
now." 
"How glib, how droll." Pygmalion palmed the sphere, 
and its light died. "When we return, you will venerate him 
as your emperor, and you will worship me as your god." 
His laughter filled the courtyard, but by the time it echoed 
back to the center, he had vanished in a burst of gold light. 
I looked up as Crowley stepped around a knot of docile 
wolfmen being led away by two of the IDC ninjas. "You 
missed the party." 
Crowley toed the dead flying shark. "If you'd told me it 
was open season on lawyers, I would have been here." He 
winced, and I noticed for the first time that he was favoring 
his right leg. "As it was, I had a bit of a job to do myself with 
that gold tunnel." 
"Are you okay?" I knew he always kept a tight rein on 
himself, but I couldn't sense even a hint of distress coming 
from him. 
Crowley shrugged. "I'll live. Turns out the tunnel belonged 
to a Dark Lord named Pygmalion. He's fairly new 
and works a lot with folks from Earth." 
"I know." I pointed to where Rajani, Jytte, Natch and Bat 


were standing with the warrior Pygmalion had called 
Mickey. "He was here and abandoned Mickey. Rajani, the 
Yidam's daughter, says Mickey was a timid five year old 
boy when last she saw him." 
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "When was that?" 
I shrugged and felt some aches from my clawed ribs. 
"Two or three weeks ago. She says he has a sister and 
father in Flagstaff." 
"That will make for a fascinating homecoming." Crowley 
shook his head. "What do you know about Pygmalion?" 
"Not much, and all of it picked up by inference." I slung 
the Stormcloud over my shoulder. "I gather Pygmalion 
was a human scientist named Nicholas Hunt. Fiddleback 
offered him power in return for loyalty. Pygmalion rebelled 
and has been annoying Fiddleback since that time." 
Looking over at Mickey and Jytte, both creations from 
the hand of Pygmalion, part of me wanted to admire his 
handiwork. I could also sympathize with his rebellion 
against Fiddleback, and I knew well the pleasure of 
defying him. I also knew the seduction of the power 
Fiddleback offered, and I felt strong in resisting itthis 
time. Will I always make that choice? 
Crowley's voice refocused my attention outside. "He's 
been annoying lots more than just Fiddleback. All the 
Dark Lords vie against each other for dominance. Pygmalion 
may well be new, but he is upsetting many of the 
old power structures. In many ways, he is responsible for 
having renewed the Dark Lords' hunger for new worlds." 
I could see it. Power is a drug that satisfies none. It only 
creates a hunger for more. Even though one might have 
enough power to survive, the mere fact that another wants 
your power makes you more ravenous. Dark Lords that 
had lain dormant for eons were now waking with empty 
bellies, and Earth seems to be in season. 
Crowley looked around as another group of the transformed 
creatures walked away under guard. "What are 
you going to do with them?" 
"For now, we're putting them in the secure areas of the 
GBI complex. Without Fiddleback to guide them, most 
are very shocked and stunned by what they have become." 
I shook my head. "They were looking for an edge, 
a secret that would give them an advantage over their 
peers. They thought they'd found it with GBI. Now they're 
just fodder for tabloid stories." 
"At least they can find work in the circus." Crowley 
walked over and leaned against the triceratops' shield. 
"Pygmalion had some builder-beings in the lead constructing 
that tunnel through the dimensions. I moved the 
markers he had left behind for them into an area with a 
dimensional gateway. I managed to program it to randomly 
select a new destination every three seconds, so 


I've been scattering his no-deposit, no-return warriors all 
over the place. A lot of them looked like that guy over 
there, and some of them were good." 
I nodded. "When Rajani spoke with Mickey, he became 
docile. She thinks she has broken the links in his mind that 
make him a killer on order, and the fact that he's not slain 
her is fair proof of that. He was fast, Crowley, very fast. The 
black swirls and lines look like decoration, but they're 
really carbon-fiber armor. I'd like to see an MRI of him 
because I think the bones in his arms and legs have been 
replaced with titanium replicas." 
"Interesting. Where's the big guy you were with?" 
Crowley looked around, then glanced down at the 
dinosaur's shattered skull. "Out looking for a taxidermist? 
A single loud gunshot punctuated the night. "There was 
a loose Roboguard IV in the Garden of Contemplation." 
We shared a smile, then both looked over toward the 
main building as Hal Garrett and Sinclair MacNeal led a 
group of five men toward us. Four of the men wore 
business suits and, despite the darkness, sunglasses. 
They seemed unimpressed by the odd menagerie of 
creatures in the Sun Court. The fifth man was smaller and 
moved with the care of old age, yet I sensed a vitality in him 
that even Pygmalion had not exhibited. 
Sin stopped and pointed me out with a wave of his hand. 
"This is Coyote. Coyote, this is-" 
"I know." I bowed deeply and held the bow out of 
respect. Straightening up slowly, I noticed, from the 
corner of my eye that Crowley had also bowed to the 
elderly man. I smiled politely and made an introduction. 
"May I present Damon Crowley." 
"We have met." 
Crowley smiled. "How kind of you to remember. It was 
a long time ago." 
I looked over at Crowley and raised an eyebrow in a 
silent question. 
Crowley shrugged. "His coronation, a Red Army cell. It 
was a long time ago." 
The small man surveyed the courtyard. "You are 
responsible for this?" 
I nodded reluctantly. "Some of it. The man who catalyzed 
it, Arrigo EI-Leichter, is dead. Your Colonel Nagashita 
killed him." 
"My grandson, is he one of these...things?" 
"No, sir, he is not." I frowned. "El-Leichter was a pawn 
of a Dark Lord we call Fiddleback. Ryuhito resisted him. 
Another Dark Lord, Pygmalion, offered Ryuhito something 
more. Your grandson left with him." 
The small man sighed heavily, then remained silent for 
a while. Sin looked down and swallowed hard, but the 
small man shook his head. "You were to get to him and 


convince him of his error. Clearly things were worse than 
I imagined, and I did not charge you with the right duty." 
He looked up at me. "Mr. MacNeal and Mr. Garrett have 
told me you are the person who is most capable of dealing 
with these Dark Lords. Is this accurate?" 
"They are generous with praise and optimistic. However, 
with my friends I am willing to defy Dark Lords." 
"Can you bring my grandson back?" 
I hesitated as the full import of the question landed on 
me heavily. Could we find a Dark Lord's home dimension 
and extract Ryuhito? The logistics and timing for such an 
operation would be staggering. Part of me knew it would 
be impossible, but another part said that not even trying 
would be criminal. "It would be difficult and dangerous, 
but I am willing to try." 
"Good. Whatever it takes, you shall have. From this 
point forward, this facility is yours to use as a staging area. 
My people will secure it. Draw up a list of things you need, 
and I will supply them. Whatever expenses you incur are 
mine." 
"You love your grandson very much." 
"This is true, but that is not the reason for my generosity 
here. As I told Mr. MacNeal," he said hoarsely, "I do not act 
out of love for Ryuhito, but out of my love for the world." 
He bowed and withdrew inside his group of guards. 
Sinclair stared after him, then turned back with a 
surprised expression on his face. "Can it be done? Can we 
find Ryuhito and pull him out?" 
"It can be done, but the odds of Elvis becoming the pope 
are a bit better than our chances of success." I jerked a 
thumb at the carnage behind us. "Had Pygmalion not 
intervened, Fiddleback would have won here. Going one 
on one with a Dark Lord is not a survival trait." 
Crowley smiled slyly. "I don't think we'll have to go it 
alone, Coyote." 
"Oh?" The amused tone in his voice sent chills down 
my spine. 
"As I noted before, Pygmalion is not a favorite of the 
other Dark Lords. In fact, in coming here I met one who 
pledged his help to destroy Pygmalion." 
"Really?" 
"Yes," Crowley nodded solemnly. "In fact, he said 
without him you will fail. I think he's right." 
"Who?" A sinking feeling tugged my stomach toward 
my toes as I realized who Crowley had spoken with. 
"Fiddleback? An alliance with Fiddleback? I might as well 
commit suicide." 
"Without him, you likely will." Crowley's eyes hardened. 
"While I don't begrudge you that option, I hope you 
reconsider. Alone, you'll kill yourself. And the rest of world 
will die with you." 


